C.N. Douglas, comp. Forty Thousand Quotations: Prose and Poetical. 1917.

Sir Henry Wotton

How happy is he born or taught,

That serveth not another’s will;

Whose armor is his honest thought

And simple truth his utmost skill!

Lord of himself, though not of lands;

And having nothing, yet hath all.

You meaner beauties of the night,

That poorly satisfy our eyes

More by your number than your light;

You common people of the skies,—

What are you when the moon shall rise?

An itch of disputing will prove the scab of churches.

I am but a gatherer and disposer of other men’s stuff.

Idle time not idly spent.

Now all nature seemed in love, and birds had drawn their valentines.