Of all knowledge the wise and good seek most to know themselves.

Help, master, help! here's a fish hangs in the net, like a poor man's right in the law; 'twill hardly come out.

All fancy-sick she is and pale of cheer, with sighs of love, that costs the fresh blood dear.

Violent fires soon burn out themselves, small showers last long, but sudden storms are short; he tires betimes that spurs too fast.

My father names me Autolycus, who being, as I am, littered under Mercury, was likewise a snapper-up of unconsidered trifles.

My hands are of your color, but I shame to wear a heart so white.

He is the half part of a blessed man, Left to be finished by such as she; And she a fair divided excellence, Whose fullness of perfection lies in him.