“I think the sun where he were born drew all such humours from him.”

“Were all the letters sun, I could not see one.”

“When he shall die,Take him and cut him out in little stars,And he will make the face of heaven so fineThat all the world will be in love with nightAnd pay no worship to the garish sun.”

“I know you all, and will awhile upholdThe unyoked humour of your idleness.Yet herein will I imitate the sun,Who doth permit the base contagious cloudsTo smother up his beauty from the world,That when he please again to be himself,Being wanted, he may be more wondered atBy breaking through the foul and ugly mistsOf vapours that did seem to strangle him.If all the year were playing holidays,To sport would be as tedious as to work;But when they seldom come, they wished-for come,And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents.So, when this loose behaviour I throw offAnd pay the debt I never promisèd,By how much better than my word I am,By so much shall I falsify men’s hopes;And like bright metal on a sullen ground,My reformation, glitt’ring o’er my fault,Shall show more goodly and attract more eyesThan that which hath no foil to set it off.I’ll so offend to make offence a skill,Redeeming time when men think least I will.”

“I think he would not wish himself anywhere but where he is.”

“I was born free as Caesar; so were you”

“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.”