At Christmas, I no more desire a rose.

For never was a story of more woe than this of Juliet and her Romeo.

If to do were as easy as to know what were good to do, chapels had been churches, and poor men’s cottages princes’ palaces. It is a good divine that follows his own instructions: I can easier teach twenty what were good to be done, than be one of the twenty to follow mine own teaching.

I must be gone and live, or stay and die.

Nimble thought can jump both sea and land.

Death makes no conquest of this conqueror: For now he lives in fame, though not in life.

I thank God I am as honest as any man living that is an old man and no honester than I.