The Oxford Dictionary of Quotations Preface

Biting my truant pen, beating myself for spite,
‘Fool,’ said my Muse to me; ‘look in thy heart and write’.
‘Astrophel and Stella’ (1591) sonnet 1
With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb’st the skies;
How silently, and with how wan a face.
What, may it be that even in heavenly place
That busy archer his sharp arrows tries?
‘Astrophel and Stella’ (1591) sonnet 31
Do they call virtue there ungratefulness?
‘Astrophel and Stella’ (1591) sonnet 31
Come, sleep, O sleep, the certain knot of peace,
The baiting place of wit, the balm of woe,
The poor man’s wealth, the prisoner’s release,
Th’ indifferent judge between the high and low.
‘Astrophel and Stella’ (1591) sonnet 39
Take thou of me sweet pillows, sweetest bed,
A chamber deaf to noise and blind to light;
A rosy garland and a weary head.
‘Astrophel and Stella’ (1591) sonnet 39
That sweet enemy, France.
‘Astrophel and Stella’ (1591) sonnet 41
They love indeed who quake to say they love.
‘Astrophel and Stella’ (1591) sonnet 54
Doubt you to whom my Muse these songs intendeth,
Which now my breast, o’ercharged, to music lendeth?
To you, to you, all song of praise is due;
Only in you my song begins and endeth.
‘Astrophel and Stella’ (1591) first song
Oh heav’nly fool, thy most kiss-worthy face
Anger invests with such a lovely grace
That Anger’s self I needs must kiss again.
‘Astrophel and Stella’ (1591) sonnet 73
I never drank of Aganippe well,
Nor ever did in shade of Tempe sit,
And Muses scorn with vulgar brains to dwell;
Poor layman I, for sacred rites unfit...
I am no pick-purse of another’s wit.
‘Astrophel and Stella’ (1591) sonnet 74
Highway, since you my chief Parnassus be,
And that my Muse, to some ears not unsweet,