When holy and devout religious men are at their beads, 'tis hard to draw them thence; so sweet is zealous contemplation.

Tired with all these, for restful death I cry.

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

Madness in great ones must not unwatched go.

Demand me nothing: what you know, you know.

Even as one heat another heat expels, or as one nail by strength drives out another, so the remembrance of my former love is by a newer object quite forgotten.

The small amount of foolery wise men have makes a great show.