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Oft have I mused, but now at length I find, Why those that die, men say they do depart.
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Yea, worse than death: death parts both woe and joy: From joy I part, still living in annoy.
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To be ambitious of true honor, of the true glory and perfection of our natures, is the very principle and incentive of virtue.
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But words came halting forth, wanting Inventions stayInvention, Natures child, fled step-dame Studys blows...Biting my truant pen, beating myself for spite,Fool, said my Muse to me look in thy heart and write.
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They are never alone that are accompanied with noble thoughts.
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