In religion, What damned error but some sober brow Will bless it, and approve it with a text, Hiding the grossness with fair ornament?

Right joyous are we to behold your face, Most worthy brother England; fairly met!

The weight of this sad time we must obey, Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say. The oldest hath borne most: we that are young Shall never see so much, nor live so long.

The will of man is by his reason sway'd.

Indeed, sir, he that sleeps feels not the toothache; but a man that were to sleep your sleep, and a hangman to help him to bed, I think he would change places with his officer; for look you, sir, you know not which way you shall go.

Dead shepherd, now I find thy saw of might. Whoever lov'd that lov'd not at first sight.

I have touched the highest point of all my greatness.