...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.

On pain of death, no person be so bold.

I have lived long enough. My way of life is to fall into the sere, the yellow leaf, and that which should accompany old age, as honor, love, obedience, troops of friends I must not look to have.

Self-love, my liege, is not so vile a sin, as self-neglecting.

Love runs away from those chasing her, and those who run away, she throws herself on his neck.

That is not the best sermon which makes the hearers go away talking to one another and praising the speaker, but which makes them go away thoughtful and serious, and hastening to be alone.

O! for a muse of fire, that would ascend the brightest heaven of invention.