History is the essence of innumerable biographies.

A witty statesman said, you might prove anything by figures.

Ask me no more where Jove bestows,

Here lies a king, that ruled as he thought fit The universal monarchy of wit.

So here hath been dawning Another blue Day: Think wilt thou let it Slip useless away.

The magic of a face.

The firstling of the infant year.

Give me more love or more disdain; The torrid or the frozen zone: Bring equal ease unto my pain; The temperate affords me none.

He that loves a rosy cheek, Or a coral lip admires, Or, from starlike eyes, doth seek Fuel to maintain his fires; As old Time makes these decay, So his flames must waste away.

Ask me no more whither doth haste The nightingale when May is past; For in your sweet dividing throat She winters and keeps warm her note.