The voice so sweet, the words so fair, As some soft chime had stroked the air; And though the sound had parted thence, Still left an echo in the sense.

The dignity of truth is lost with much protesting.

I have been at my book; and am now past the craggy paths of study, and come to the flowery plains of honour and reputation

No man so wise that he may not easily err if he takes no other counsel than his own. He that is taught only by himself has a fool for a master.

Give me a look, give me a face, That makes simplicity a grace Robes loosely flowing, hair as free Such sweet neglect more taketh me Than all the adulteries of art: They strike mine eyes, but not my heart.

He threatens many that hath injured one.

True melancholy breeds your perfect fine wit.