For death remembered should be like a mirror, Who tells us life’s but breath, to trust it error.

Opinion crowns with an imperial voice.

What win I, if I gain the thing I seek? A dream, a breath, a froth of fleeting joy. Who buys a minute's mirth to wail a week? Or sells eternity to get a toy? For one sweet grape who will the vine destroy? Or what fond beggar, but to touch the crown, Would with the sceptre straight be strucken down?

You take my life when you do take the means whereby I live

Your lordship, though not clean past your youth, have yet some smack of age in you, some relish of the saltiness of time.

The elephant hath joints, but none for courtesy; his legs are legs for necessity, not for flexure.

Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.