Oh, yes, thy sins Do run before thee to fetch fire from hell, To light thee thither.

Heaven fashioned us of nothing; and we strive to bring ourselves to nothing.

I myself have loved a lady and pursued her with a great deal of under-age protestation, whom some three or four gallants that have enjoyed would with all their hearts have been glad to have been rid of. 'Tis just like a summer birdcage in a garden: the birds that are without despair to get in, and the birds that are within despair and are in a consumption for fear they shall never get out.

Were there no heaven nor hell I should be honest.

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.

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