“Trifles light as air are to the jealous confirmations strong as proofs of holy writ.”

“And thus I clothe my naked villainyWith odd old ends stol'n out of holy writ;And seem a saint, when most I play the devil.”

“But then I sigh, with a piece of ScriptureTell them that God bids us to do evil for good; And thus I clothe my naked villanyWith odd old ends stolen out of Holy Writ;And seem a saint, when most I play the devil.”

“The setting sun, and music at the close,As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last,Writ in remembrance more than things long past.”

“let not thy sword skip one:Pity not honour'd age for his white beard;He is an usurer: strike me the counterfeit matron;It is her habit only that is honest,Herself's a bawd: let not the virgin's cheekMake soft thy trenchant sword; for those milk-paps,That through the window-bars bore at men's eyes,Are not within the leaf of pity writ,But set them down horrible traitors: spare not the babe,Whose dimpled smiles from fools exhaust their mercy;Think it a bastard, whom the oracleHath doubtfully pronounced thy throat shall cut,And mince it sans remorse: swear against objects;Put armour on thine ears and on thine eyes;Whose proof, nor yells of mothers, maids, nor babes,Nor sight of priests in holy vestments bleeding,Shall pierce a jot. There's gold to pay soldiers:Make large confusion; and, thy fury spent,Confounded be thyself! Speak not, be gone.”

“Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,But bears it out even to the edge of doom:If this be error and upon me proved,I never writ, nor no man ever loved”

“More are men's ends mark'd than their lives before:The setting sun, and music at the close,As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last,Writ in remembrance more than things long past”