My love’s more richer than my tongue

Nothing will come of nothing

Thou, nature, art my goddess

How sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is /To have a thankless child

Striving to do better, oft we mar what’s well

Nothing almost sees miracles/ but misery

Let go thy hold when a great wheel runs down a hill, lest it break thy neck following it.

O, reason no the need

I am a man more sinned against than sinning

When the mind’s free/ The body’s delicate

Filial ingratitude

Feel what wretches feel

Take physic, pomp

Thou art the thing itself

O heavens! That his treason were not, or not I the detector!

He childed as I fathered

Our means secure us, and our mere defects/ Prove our commodities

The worst is not/ So long as we can say “This is the worst”

As flies to wanton boys, are we to the gods/ They kill us for their sport

So distribution should undo excess, and each man have enough

Wisdom and goodness to the vile seem vile: filths favour but themselves

A moral fool

Sorrow would be a rarity most beloved/ If all could so become it

It is the stars, the stars above us, govern our conditions

No blown ambition doth our arms incite

Thy life’s a miracle

The clearest gods, who make them honours of men’s impossibilities, have preserved thee.

Ay and no too was no good divinity

For I lack soldiers

I see it feelingly

Plates sin with gold

A dog’s obeyed in office

Reason in madness

Know thou this, that men are as the time

Mine enemy’s dog

Where I could not be honest I never yet was valiant

Ripeness is all

And take upon’s the mystery of things

The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices make instruments to plague us

All three now marry in an instant

I pant for life

Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life, and thou no breath at all?