Spread yourself upon his bosom publicly, whose heart you would eat in private.
Many might go to heaven with half the labour they go to hell, if they would venture their industry the right way.
The man that is once hated, both his good and his evil deeds oppress him.
For whose sake, henceforth, all his vows be such, As what he loves may never like too much.
True melancholy breeds your perfect fine wit.
Minds that are great and free, should not on fortune pause: 'Tis crown enough to virtue still, her own applause.