“For trumpets sterne to chaunge mine Oaten reeds,And sing of Knights and Ladies gentle deeds;”

“His Lady sad to see his sore constraint, Cried out, "Now now Sir knight, shew what ye bee, Add faith unto your force, and be not faint: Strangle her, else she sure will strangle thee." That when he heard, in great perplexitie, His gall did grate for griefe and high distaine, And knitting all his force got one hand free, Wherewith he grypt her gorge with so great paine,That soone to loose her wicked bands did her constraine.”

“Yet gold all is not, that doth gold seem,Nor all good knights, that shake well spear and shield:The worth of all men by their end esteem,And then praise, or due reproach them yield.”

“Men call you fayre, and you doe credit it,For that your self ye daily such doe see:But the trew fayre, that is the gentle wit,And vertuous mind, is much more praysd of me.For all the rest, how ever fayre it be,Shall turne to nought and loose that glorious hew:But onely that is permanent and freeFrom frayle corruption, that doth flesh ensew.That is true beautie: that doth argue youTo be divine and borne of heavenly seed:Deriv'd from that fayre Spirit, from whom al trueAnd perfect beauty did at first proceed.He onely fayre, and what he fayre hath made,All other fayre lyke flowres untymely fade.”

“My Love Is Like To Ice, And I To FireMy love is like to ice, and I to fire;How comes it then that this her cold so greatIs not dissolv'd through my so hot desire,But harder grows the more I her entreat?Or how comes it that my exceeding heatIs not delay’d by her heart-frozen cold;But that I burn much more in boiling sweat,And feel my flames augmented manifold!What more miraculous thing may be told,That fire, which all things melts, should harden ice;And ice, which is congeal’d with senseless cold,Should kindle fire by wonderful device!Such is the power of love in gentle mind,That it can alter all the course of kind.”

“Why then should witless man so much misweeneThat nothing is but that which he hath seene?”

“So furiously each other did assayle, As if their soules they would attonce haue rent Out of their brests, that streames of bloud did rayle Adowne, as if their springes of life were spent; That all the ground with purple bloud was sprent, And all their armours staynd with bloudie gore, Yet scarcely once to breath would they relent, So mortall was their malice and so sore,Become of fayned friendship which they vow'd afore.”