"....But words came halting forth, wanting Invention's stay,Invention, Nature's child, fled step-dame Study's blows,And others' feet still seemed but strangers in my way.Thus great with child to speak, and helpless in my throes,Biting my truant pen, beating myself for spite:"Fool," said my Muse to me, "look in thy heart and write.""

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“Come sleep, O sleep, the certain knot of peace,The baiting place of wit, the balm of woe,The poor man’s wealth, the prisoner’s release,The indifferent judge between the high and low.”

“And thou my minde aspire to higher things;Grow rich in that which never taketh rust.”

“My true love hath my heart, and I have his,By just exchange, one for the other given.”

“That sweet enemy, France.”

“With a tale forsooth he cometh unto you, with a tale which holdeth children from play, and old men from the chimney corner.”

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