As Chaste As Unsunned Snow.

The Morning Steals Upon The Night, Melting The Darkness.

Virtue Itself Scapes Not Calumnious Strokes.

I Have Very Poor And Unhappy Brains For Drinking: I Could Well Wish Courtesy Would Invent Some Other Custom Of Entertainment.

He Is The Half Part Of A Blessed Man, Left To Be Finished By Such As She; And She A Fair Divided Excellence, Whose Fullness Of Perfection Lies In Him.

Who Riseth From A Feast With That Keen Appetite That He Sits Down?