Tis safter to be that which we destroy Than by destruction dwell in doubtful joy.

Thine eyes I love, and they as pitying me, Knowing thy heart torment me with disdain, Have put on black, and loving mourners be, Looking with pretty ruth upon my pain.

All is well ended if this suit be won. That you express content; which we will pay, With strife to please you, day exceeding day.

Conversation should be pleasant without scurrility, witty without affectation, free without indecency, learned without conceitedness, novel without falsehood.

There should be hours for necessities, not for delights; times to repair our nature with comforting repose, and not for us to waste these times.

Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of barren ground.

Life... is a paradise to what we know of death.