I Will Despair, And Be At Enmity

Winter, Which, Being Full Of Care, Makes Summer's Welcome Thrice More Wish'd, More Rare.

Love Is My Sin, And Thy Dear Virtue Hate, Hate Of My Sin, Grounded On Sinful Loving.

No Particular Scandal One Can Touch But It Confounds The Breather.

I Have Lov'd Her Ever Since I Saw Her; And Still I See Her Beautiful

If It Be A Sin To Covet Honor, I Am The Most Offending Soul.