“Not that fair field Of Enna, where Proserpin gathering flowers Herself a fairer flower by gloomy Dis Was gathered, which cost Ceres all that pain To seek her through the world. John Milton
“For every time she shouted “Fire!” They only answered “Little liar!” And therefore when her aunt returned, Matilda, and the house, were burned. Hilaire Belloc
“Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, Remembers me of all his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form. William Shakespeare
“I that am of your blood was taken from you For your better health; look no more upon’t, But cast it to the ground regardlessly, Let the common sewer take it from distinction. Thomas Middleton
“Farewell, thou child of my right hand, and joy! My sin was too much hope of thee, loved boy. Ben Jonson