I praise God for you, sir: your reasons at dinner have been sharp and sententious; pleasant without scurrility, witty without affectation, audacious without impudency, learned without opinion, and strange with-out heresy.

So well thy words become thee as thy wounds.

Small things make base men proud.

... And death unloads thee.

I hate the murderer, love him murdered.

No, Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change.

Love is begun by time and time qualifies the spark and fire of it.