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

If you would persuade, you must appeal to interest rather than intellect. We are advertis'd by our loving friends.

Do not swear by the moon, for she changes constantly. Then your love would also change.

I had rather have a fool to make me merry than experience to make me sad and to travel for it too!

O, but they say, the tongues of dying men enforce attention, like deep harmony: where words are scarce, they are seldom spent in vain: for they breathe truth, that breathe their words in pain. he, that no more must say, is listened more than they whom youth and ease have taught to gloze; more are men's ends marked, than their lives before: the setting sun, and music at the close, as the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last; writ in rememberance more than things long past

In religion, What damned error but some sober brow Will bless it, and approve it with a text, Hiding the grossness with fair ornament?

Lechery, lechery; still, wars and lechery: nothing else holds fashion.