...and then, in dreaming, / The clouds methought would open and show riches / Ready to drop upon me, that when I waked / I cried to dream again.

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

One woman is fair, yet I am well; another is wise, yet I am well; another virtuous, yet I am well; but till all graces be in one woman, one woman shall not come in my grace.

The tempter or the tempted, who sins most?

Nothing 'gainst Times scythe can make defence.

The eagle suffers little birds to sing.

If this were played upon a stage now, I could condemn it as an improbable fiction.