So longe mote ye lyve, and alle proude, Til crowes feet be growen under youre y'.
The sunshine of thine eyes,(O still celestial beam!)Whatever it touches it fillsWith the life of its lambent gleam.The sunshine of thine eyes,Oh, let it fall on me!Though I be but a mote of the air,I could turn to gold for thee.
Into the woods thenceforth in hast she went,To seeke for hearbes, that mote him remedy;For she of hearbes had great intendiment,Taught of the Nymphe, which from her infancyHer nourced had in trew Nobility:There, whether it divine Tobacco were,Or Panachaea, or Polygony,She found, and brought it to her patient deareWho al this while lay bleeding out his hart-bloud neare.Edmund Spenser
Sin in the conscience, is like Jonah in a ship, which causeth such a tempest, that the conscience is like a troubled sea, whose waters cannot rest, or it is like a mote in the eye, which causeth a perpetual trouble while it is there.