“Force should be right; or rather, right and wrong,between whose endless jar justice resides,should lose their names, and so should justice too.Then everything includes itself in power,power into will, will into appetite;and appetite, an universal wolf,so doubly seconded with will and power, must make perforce an universal preyand at last eat up himself.”

“The quality of mercy is not strained.It droppeth as the gentle rain from heavenUpon the place beneath. It is twice blessed:It blesseth him that gives and him that takes.'Tis mightiest in the mightiest. It becomesThe thronèd monarch better than his crown.His scepter shows the force of temporal power,The attribute to awe and majestyWherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings,But mercy is above this sceptered sway.It is enthronèd in the hearts of kings.It is an attribute to God himself.And earthly power doth then show likest God’sWhen mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew, Though justice be thy plea, consider this-That in the course of justice none of usShould see salvation. We do pray for mercy,And that same prayer doth teach us all to renderThe deeds of mercy. I have spoke thus muchTo mitigate the justice of thy plea,Which if thou follow, this strict court of VeniceMust needs give sentence 'gainst the merchant there.”

“He that hangs himself is a virgin: virginity murders itself, and should be buried in highways, out of all sanctified limit, as a desperate offendress against nature. Virginity breeds mites, much like a cheese, consumes itself to the very paring, and so dies with feeding his own stomach. Besides, virginity is peevish, proud, idle, made of self-love, which is the most inhibited sin in the canon. Keep it not; you cannot choose but lose by’t! Out with’t! within the year it will make itself two, which is a goodly increase, and the principal itself not much the worse. Away with ’t!”

“I may chance have someodd quirks and remnants of wit broken on me,because I have railed so long against marriage: butdoth not the appetite alter? a man loves the meatin his youth that he cannot endure in his age.Shall quips and sentences and these paper bullets ofthe brain awe a man from the career of his humour?No, the world must be peopled. When I said I woulddie a bachelor, I did not think I should live till Iwere married.”

“O, mickle is the powerful grace that liesIn herbs, plants, stones, and their true qualities:For nought so vile that on the earth doth liveBut to the earth some special good doth give,Nor aught so good but strain’d from that fair useRevolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse:Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied;And vice sometimes by action dignified.Within the infant rind of this small flowerPoison hath residence and medicine power:For this, being smelt, with that part cheers each part;Being tasted, slays all senses with the heart.Two such opposed kings encamp them stillIn man as well as herbs, grace and rude will;And where the worser is predominant,Full soon the canker death eats up that plant.”

“What should such fellows as I do crawling between heaven and earth?”

“Make me a willow cabin at your gateAnd call upon my soul within the house;Write loyal cantons of contemned loveAnd sing them loud even in the dead of night;Hallo your name to the reverberate hillsAnd make the babbling gossip of the airCry out "Olivia!" O, you should not restBetween the elements of air and earthBut you should pity me”