Not proud you have, but thankful that you have. Proud can I never be of what I hate, but thankful even for hate that is meant love.

We must love men, ere to us they will seem worthy of our love.

Praising what is lost makes the remembrance dear

Not from the stars do I my judgement pluck, And yet methinks I have astronomy. But not to tell of good or evil luck, Of plagues, of dearths, or season's quality; Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell ... Or say with princes if it shall go well.

Now my charms are all o'erthrown.

All his successors gone before him have done 't; and all his ancestors that come after him may.

Greatness knows itself.