Oh! that you could turn your eyes towards the napes of your necks, and make but an interior survey of your good selves.

'Tis better to bear the ills we have than fly to others that we know not of.

Why, what is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and dust? And, live we how we can, yet die we must.

Feed on her damask cheek: she pined in thought, And with a green and yellow melancholy She sat like patience on a monument, Smiling at grief

That which ordinary men are fit for, I am qualified in. and the best of me is diligence.

A politician... one that would circumvent God.

Two stars keep not their motion in one sphere.