Behold a silly tender babe, In freezing winter night, In homely manger trembling lies; Alas! a piteous sight. - Robert Southwell

When Fortune smiles, I smile to think
How quickly she will frown.

Man's mind a mirror is of heavenly sights,
A brief wherein all marvels summèd lie,
Of fairest forms and sweetest shapes the store,
Most graceful all, yet thought may grace them more.

My conscience is my crown,
Contented thoughts my rest;
My heart is happy in itself,
My bliss is in my breast. Enough I reckon wealth;
A mean the surest lot,
That lies too high for base contempt,
Too low for envy's shot.