Now see that noble and most sovereign reason, Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh.

With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come. And let my liver rather heat with wine, than my heart cool with mortifying groans.

All pity choked with custom of fell deeds.

There is no vice so simple but assumes some mark of virtue on his outward parts.

Let men say we be men of good government, being governed, as the sea is, by our noble and chaste mistress the moon, under whose countenance we steal.

I say there is no darkness but ignorance.

Best men oft are moulded out of faults.