Devils soonest tempt, resembling spirits of light.

Self-love, my liege, is not so vile a sin, as self-neglecting.

There's her cousin, an she were not possessed with a fury, exceeds her as much in beauty as the first of May doth the last of December.

To persist in doing wrong extenuates not the wrong, but makes it much more heavy.

What a piece of work is a man, how noble in reason, how infinite in faculties, in form and moving how express and admirable, in action how like an angel, in apprehension how like a god.

O call not me to justify the wrong, That thy unkindness lays upon my heart, Wound me not with thine eye but with thy tongue, Use power with power, and slay me not by art.

A breath thou art, Servile to all the skyey influences.