I have lived long enough. My way of life is to fall into the sere, the yellow leaf, and that which should accompany old age, as honor, love, obedience, troops of friends I must not look to have.

If there be no great love in the beginning, yet heaven may decrease it upon better acquaintance, when we are married and have more occasion to know one another: I hope, upon familiarity will grow more contempt.

Great griefs medicine the less.

All pride is willing pride.

Sweet mercy is nobility's true badge.

O me, you juggler, you canker-blossom, you thief of love!

The expedition of my violent love outrun the pauser, reason.