Those that much covet are with gain so fond, For what they have not, that which they possess They scatter and unloose it from their bond, And so, by hoping more, they have but less; Or, gaining more, the profit of excess Is but to surfeit, and such griefs sustain, That they prove bankrupt in this poor-rich gain.

All days are nights to see till I see thee, And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me.

Talkers are no good doers.

The Devil hath power To assume a pleasing shape.

Tax not so bad a voice to slander music any more than once.

How many fond fools serve mad jealousy!

Though justice be thy plea consider this, that in the course of justice none of us should see salvation.