“Look on beauty,And you shall see 'tis purchased by the weight;Which therein works a miracle in nature,Making them lightest that wear most of it:So are those crisped snaky golden locksWhich make such wanton gambols with the wind,Upon supposed fairness, often knownTo be the dowry of a second head,The skull that bred them in the sepulchre.Thus ornament is but the guiled shoreTo a most dangerous sea; the beauteous scarfVeiling an Indian beauty; in a word,The seeming truth which cunning times put onTo entrap the wisest.”

“Truth may seem, but cannot be;Beauty brag, but 'tis not she:Truth and beauty buriéd be.”

“In nature there's no blemish but the mind;None can be called deformed but the unkind:Virtue is beauty, but the beauteous evilAre empty trunks, o'erflourished by the devil.”

“Time shall unfold what plaited cunning hides:Who cover faults, at last shame them derides.”

“Virginity being blown down man will quicklier be blown up; marry, in blowing him down again, with the breach yourselves made you lose your city. It is not politic in the commonwealth of nature to preserve virginity. Loss of virginity is rational increase, and there was never virgin got till virginity was first lost. That you were made of is mettel to make virgins. Virginity, by being once lost may be ten times found; by being ever kept it is ever lost. ‘Tis too cold a companion. Away with ‘t!There’s little can be said in’t; ’tis against the rule of nature. To speak on the part of virginity, is to accuse your mothers; which is most infallible disobedience. He that hangs himself is a virgin; virginity murthers 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 loose 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! Tis a commodity that will lose the gloss with lying; the longer kept, the less worth: off with ’t, while ’tis vendible; answer the time of request. Virginity, like an old courtier, wears her cap out of fashion; richly suited, but unsuitable: just like the brooch and the toothpick, which wear not now. Your date is better in your pie and your porridge than in your cheek; and your virginity, your old virginity, is like one of our French withered pears: it looks ill, it eats drily. Marry, 'tis a withered pear; it was formerly better; marry, yet 'tis a withered pear! Will you anything with it?”

“But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive,And, constant stars, in them I read such art,As truth and beauty shall together thriveIf from thyself to store thou wouldst convert;Or else of thee I prognosticate,Thy end is truth's and beauty's doom and date.”

“This is in thee a nature but infected;A poor unmanly melancholy sprungFrom change of fortune. Why this spade? this place?This slave-like habit? and these looks of care?Thy flatterers yet wear silk, drink wine, lie soft;Hug their diseased perfumes, and have forgotThat ever Timon was. Shame not these woods,By putting on the cunning of a carper.Be thou a flatterer now, and seek to thriveBy that which has undone thee: hinge thy knee,And let his very breath, whom thou'lt observe,Blow off thy cap; praise his most vicious strain,And call it excellent: thou wast told thus;Thou gavest thine ears like tapsters that bid welcomeTo knaves and all approachers: 'tis most justThat thou turn rascal; hadst thou wealth again,Rascals should have 't. Do not assume my likeness.”