But most it is presumption in us when the help of heaven we count the act of men.

Thou seest I have more flesh than another man, and therefore more frailty.

Love is begun by time and time qualifies the spark and fire of it.

O God, I could be bound in a nutshell, and count myself a king of infinite space – were it not that I have bad dreams.

I had rather be a Kitten, and cry mew, Than one of these same Meeter Ballad-mongers: I had rather heare a Brazen Candlestick turn'd, Or a dry Wheele grate on the Axle-tree, And that would set my teeth nothing an edge, Nothing so much, as mincing Poetrie.

Our wills and fates do so contrary run, That our devices still are overthrown; Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own.

To go to bed after midnight is to go to bed betimes