Actions of the last age are like almanacs of the last year.
Who fears not to do ill fears the name, And free from conscience, is a slave to fame.
Sure there are poets which did never dream Upon Parnassus, nor did taste the stream Of Helicon; we therefore may suppose Those made not poets, but the poets those.
You prove but too clearly that seeking to know Is too frequently learning to doubt.
Youth, what man's age is like to be, doth show; We may our ends by our beginnings know.
Whatsoever is worthy of their love is worth their anger.