Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell. Though all things foul would wear the brows of grace, Yet Grace must still look so.

I can call spirits from the vasty deep.

We go to gain a little patch of ground that hath in it no profit but the name.

Well, I'll repent, and that suddenly, while I am in some liking; I shall be out of heart shortly, and then I shall have no strength to repent.

You must confine yourself within the modest limits of order.

Travelers never did lie, though fools at home condemn them.

Lay not that flattering unction to your soul, That not your trespass but my madness speaks.