I have neither the scholar's melancholy, which is emulation; nor the musician's, which is fantastical; nor the courtier's, which is proud; not the soldier's which is ambitious; nor the lawyer's, which is politic; nor the lady's, which is nice; nor the lover's, which is all these: but it is a melancholy of mine own, compounded of many simples, extracted from many objects, and indeed the sundry contemplation of my travels, which, by often rumination, wraps me in a most humorous sadness.

Hot lavender, mints, savory, marjoram; The marigold, that goes to bed wi' the sun, and with him rise weeping.

The nature of bad news affects the teller.

Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind.

A woman moved is like a fountain troubled, Muddy, ill-seeming, thick, bereft of beauty.

Sweets to the sweet.

They told me I was everything. 'Tis a lie, I am not ague-proof.