Love like a shadow flies when substance love pursues Pursuing that that flies, and flying what pursues.

I can easier teach twenty what were good to be done, than be one of the twenty to follow mine own teaching.

Though patience be a tired mare, yet she will plod.

Her blood is settled, and her joints are stiff; Life and these lips have long been separated: Death lies on her like an untimely frost Upon the sweetest flower of all the field.

Ay, but to die, and go we know not where.

One may smile, and smile, and be a villain.

This rough magic I here abjure and when I have required some heavenly music, which even now I do, to work mine end upon their senses that this airy charm is for, I'll break my staff, bury it certain fathoms in the earth, and deeper than did ever plummet sound, I'll drown my book.