“True gladness doth not always speak; joy, bred and born but in the tongue, is weak.”

A good life is a main argument.

Whom the disease of talking still once posses-seth, he can never hold his peace.

Whosoever loves not picture is injurious to truth, and all the wisdom of poetry. Picture is the invention of heaven, the most ancient and most akin to nature. It is itself a silent work, and always one and the same habit.

Many might go to heaven with half the labour they go to hell, if they would venture their industry the right way.

All concord’s born of contraries.

Minds that are great and free, should not on fortune pause: ‘Tis crown enough to virtue still, her own applause.

Ambition, like a torrent, never looks back.

The dignity of truth is lost with much protesting.

Freedom doth with degree dispense.

Good men are the stars, the planets of the ages wherein they live, and illustrate the times.

There is no bounty to be showed to such As have real goodness: Bounty is A spice of virtue; and what virtuous act Can take effect on them that have no power Of equal habitude to apprehend it?

I perceive affection makes a fool Of any man too much the father.

Court a mistress, she denies you; let her alone, she will court you.

Nor shall our cups make any guilty men; But at our parting, we will be, as when We innocently met.

Force works on servile natures, not the free.

It is virtue that gives glory; that will endenizen a man everywhere.