In all our quest of greatness, like wanton boys, whose pastime is their care, we follow after bubbles, blown in the air.

Is not old wine wholesomest, old pippins toothsomest, old wood burn brightest, old linen wash whitest? Old soldiers, sweethearts, are surest, and old lovers are soundest.

The misery of us, that are born great, We are forced to woo because none dare woo us.

Gold that buys health can never be ill spent, Nor hours laid out in harmless merriment.

For the subtlest folly proceeds from the subtlest wisdom.

In all our quest of greatness, like wanton boys, whose pastime is their care, we follow after bubbles, blown in the air.

How many ills spring from adultery? First the supreme law that is violated, Nobility oft stain'd with bastardy, Inheritance of land falsely possessed, The husband scorn'd, wife sham'd, and babes unbless'd.