Lord Bacon told Sir Edward Coke when he was boasting, The less you speak of your greatness, the more shall I think of it.

This is no time to lend money, especially upon bare friendship without security.

She lov'd me for the dangers I had pass'd, And I lov'd her that she did pity them

Say, thou art mine; and ever, My love, as it begins, shall so persevere

O, then I see Queen Mab hath been with you. . . . She is the fairies’ midwife, and she comes In shape no bigger than an agate stone On the forefinger of an alderman, Drawn with a team of little atomi Athwart men’s noses as they lie asleep.

From women's eyes this doctrine I derive: They sparkle still the right Promethean fire; They are the books, the arts, the academes, That show, contain and nourish all the world.

Ambition, the soldier's virtue, rather makes choice of loss, than gain which darkens him.