“The crown o' the earth doth melt. My lord!O, wither'd is the garland of the war,The soldier's pole is fall'n: young boys and girlsAre level now with men; the odds is gone,And there is nothing left remarkableBeneath the visiting moon.”

“...and every Wednesday the perfumed young lady slips me a hundred-crown note to leave her alone with the convict. And by Thursday the hundred crowns are already gone in so much beer. And when the visiting hour is over, the young lady comes out with the stink of jail in her elegant clothes; and the prisoner goes back to his cell with the lady's perfume in his jailbird's suit. And I'm left with the smell of beer. Life is nothing but trading smells.”

“O my good lord, the world is but a word: Were it all yours to give it in a breath, How quickly were it gone!”

“O God that madest this beautiful earth, when will it be ready to receive Thy saints? How long, O Lord, how long?”

“From all wise men, O Lord, protect us.”

“O, beware, my lord, of jealousy;It is the green-ey'd monster, which doth mockThe meat it feeds on. That cuckold lives in bliss,Who, certain of his fate, loves not his wronger:But O, what damnèd minutes tells he o'erWho dotes, yet doubts, suspects, yet strongly loves!”