Slander is a shipwrack by a dry Tempest.
The dark grave, which knows all secrets, can alone reclaim the fatal doubt once cast on a woman's name.
In war, hunting, and love, men for one pleasure a thousand griefes prove.
O what a sight were Man, if his attires Did alter with his minde; And like a dolphins skinne, his clothes combin'd With his desires!
Fine dressing is a foule house swept before the doores.
He hath no leisure who useth it not.