Thy head is as full of quarrels as an egg is full of meat, and yet thy head hath been beaten as addle as an egg for quarrelling.

The instruments of darkness tell us truths.

They do not love that do not show their love.

I will keep where there is wit stirring, and leave the faction of fools.

The will is infinite and the execution confin'd, the desire is boundless and the act a slave to limit.

Let never day nor night unhallowed pass, but still remember what the Lord hath done.

Thou ominous and fearful owl of death.