Thou shouldst not have been old till thou hadst been wise.

Go, write it in a martial hand; be curst and brief; it is no matter how witty, so it be eloquent and fun of invention: taunt him with the licence of ink: if thou thou'st him some thrice, it shall not be amiss; and as many lies as will lie in thy shee.

You great benefactors, sprinkle our society with thankfulness. For your own gifts, make yourselves praised.

Affection is a coal that must be cooled; else, suffered, it will set the heart on fire.

Gold were as good as twenty orators.

Flower of this purple dye, Hit with Cupid's archery, Sink in apple of his eye.

Tired with all these for restful death I cry, As to behold desert a beggar born, And needy nothing trimmed in jollity, And purest faith unhappily forsworn.