Virtue that transgresses is but patched with sin; and sin that amends is but patched with virtue.

Enjoy'd no sooner but despised straight, Past reason hunted, and no sooner had Past reason hated

O call not me to justify the wrong, That thy unkindness lays upon my heart, Wound me not with thine eye but with thy tongue, Use power with power, and slay me not by art.

These earthly godfathers of Heaven's lights, that give a name to every fixed star, have no more profit of their shining nights than those that walk and know not what they are.

He doth nothing but talk of his horses.

How much salt water thrown away in waste/ To season love, that of it doth not taste.

Virtue's office never breaks men's troth.