We all are men, in our own natures frail, and capable of our flesh; few are angels.
Glory is like a circle in the water, which never ceaseth to enlarge itself, till, by broad spreading, it disperse to naught.
The ostentation of our love, which, left unshown, is often left unloved.
Speak of me as I am. Nothing extenuate, nor set down aught in malice.
Let me not live, after my flame lacks oil, to be the snuff of younger spirits.
I thank God I am as honest as any man living that is an old man and no honester than I.