Poor and content is rich, and rich enough.

Well, God's above all; and there be souls must be saved, and there be souls must not be saved.

Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm, more longing, wavering, sooner lost and won, than women's are.

Excellent wretch! Perdition catch my soul But I do love thee! and when I love thee not, Chaos is come again.

Time travels in divers paces with divers persons. I'll tell you who Time ambles withal, who Time trots withal, who Time gallops withal, and who he stands still withal.

Slanders, sir, for the satirical rogue says here that old men have grey beards, that their faces are wrinkled, their eyes purging think amber and plum-tree gum, and that they have a plentiful lack of wit, together with most weak hams.

We must follow, not force Providence.