Men in rage strike those that wish them best.

Be merry; you have cause, so have we all, of joy; for our escape is much beyond our loss . . . . then wisely weigh our sorrow with our comfort.

The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, is fit for treasons, stratagems and spoils.

I have pursued her, as love hath pursued me

Make the doors upon a woman's wit, and it will out at the casement; shut that, and 'twill out at the key-hole; stop that, 'twill fly with the smoke out at the chimney.

Young men's love then lies not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes.

Report of fashions in proud Italy Whose manners still our tardy-apish nation Limps after in base imitation