“Poor soul, the center of my sinful Earth.”

“If it be a sin to covet honor, I am the most offending soul.”

“But if it be a sin to covet honour,I am the most offending soul alive.”

“My father's spirit in arms! all is not well;I doubt some foul play: would the night were come!Till then sit still, my soul: foul deeds will rise,Though all the earth o'erwhelm them, to men's eyes.”

“Love is my sin, and thy dear virtue hate, Hate of my sin, grounded on sinful loving: O, but with mine compare thou thine own state, And thou shalt find it merits not reproving,”

“There is thy gold, worse poison to men's souls,Doing more murder in this loathsome world,Than these poor compounds that thou mayst not sell.”

“Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged!Give me my sin again.”