Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises, Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not. Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments Will hum about mine ears; and sometime voices, That, if I then had waked after long sleep, Will make me sleep again: and then, in dreaming, The clouds methought would open, and show riches Ready to drop upon me; that, when I waked, I cried to dream again.

Fishes live in the sea, as men do a-land; the great ones eat up the little ones.

I have been studying how I may compare This prison where I live unto the world; And, for because the world is populous, And here is not a creature but myself, I cannot do it. Yet I'll hammer it out.

Men are April when they woo, December when they wed.

Is there no pity sitting in the clouds, That sees into the bottom of my grief?

Better conquest never canst thou make than arm thy constant and thy nobler parts against giddy, loose suggestions.

Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy.