What man art thou that, thus bescreened in night, So stumblest on my counsel? *Who are you? Why do you hide in the darkness and listen to my private thoughts?*

What can be happier than for a man, conscious of virtuous acts, and content with liberty, to despise all human affairs?

I am sir Oracle, and when I ope my lips, let no dog bark.

Being of no power to make his wishes good: His promises fly so beyond his state That what he speaks is all in debt; he owes For every word.

These blessed candles of the night.

My crown is called content, a crown that seldom kings enjoy.

The cunning livery of hell.