Very few men are wise by their own council, or learned by their own teaching. For he that was only taught by himself, had a fool for a master.

Come, my Celia, let us prove, While we can, the sports of love, Time will not be ours for ever, He, at length, our good will sever; Spend not then his gifts in vain: Suns that set may rise again; But if once we lose this light, 'Tis with us perpetual night. Why should we defer our joys? Fame and rumour are but toys.

True gladness doth not always speak; joy, bred and born but in the tongue, is weak.

Minds that are great and free, should not on fortune pause: 'Tis crown enough to virtue still, her own applause.

I have been at my book; and am now past the craggy paths of study, and come to the flowery plains of honour and reputation

When a virtuous man is raised, it brings gladness to his friends, grief to his enemies, and glory to his posterity.

Let argument bear no unmusical sound.