Beat on, proud billows; Boreas, blow;
  Swell, curlèd waves, high as Jove’s roof;
Your incivility doth show
  That innocence is tempest proof;
Though surly Nereus frown, my thoughts are calm;
Then strike, Affliction, for thy wounds are balm.

That which the world miscalls a jail
  A private closet is to me;
Whilst a good...