“the pleached bower,Where honeysuckles ripened by the sunForbid the sun to enter, like favoritesMade proud by princes, that advance their prideAgainst that power that bred it.”

“Tell me where is fancy bred,Or in the heart, or in the head?”

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

“The prince of darkness is a gentleman!”

“Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb like the sun; it shines everywhere.”

“O, let us pay the time but needful woe,Since it hath been beforehand with our griefs.This England never did, nor never shall,Lie at the proud foot of a conquerorBut when it first did help to wound itself.Now these her princes are come home again,Come the three corners of the world in arms,And we shall shock them. Nought shall make us rueIf England to itself do rest but true.”

“He is as full of valor as of kindness. Princely in both.”