Lechery, lechery; still, wars and lechery: nothing else holds fashion.

Sir, he's a good dog, and a fair dog.

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

Absence doth sharpen love, presence strengthens it; the one brings fuel, the other blows it till it burns clear.

Pardon, gentles all, the flat unraised spirits that have dared on this unworthy scaffold to bring forth so great an object.

The eagle suffers little birds to sing.

Now, good digestion wait on appetite, and health on both!