John Cleveland

My tears will keep no channel, know no laws to guide their streams, but like the waves, their cause, run with disturbance…

— John Cleveland

Love melts the rigor which the rocks have bred; a flint will break upon a feather bed.

— John Cleveland

Had Cain been Scot, God would have changed his doom nor forced him wander, but confine him home.

— John Cleveland

The astrologer who spells the stars, mistakes his globes and in her bright eye interprets heaven's physiognomies.

— John Cleveland

I am no Poet here; my pen's the spout where the rain water of my eyes run out.

— John Cleveland