Oh, thou art fairer than the evening air Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars

And I will make thee beds of roses / And a thousand fragrant posies.

Heaven, envious of our joys, is waxen pale;
And when we whisper, then the stars fall down
To be partakers of our honey talk.

(Dido, Queen of Carthage 4.4.52-54)

Now hast thou but one bare hour to live / And then thou must be damned perpetually! / Stand still, you ever-moving spheres of heaven,/ That time may cease and midnight never come.

Goodness is beauty in the best estate.

You stars that reigned at my nativity, / Whose influence hath allotted death and hell, / Now draw up Faustus, like a foggy mist, / Into the entrails of yon labouring cloud.