Thou art true and honest as a dog.
For what made that in glory shine so long But poets' Pens, pluckt from Archangels' wings?
I know my soul hath power to know all things, Yet is she blind and ignorant in all: I know I'm one of Nature's little kings, Yet to the least and vilest things am thrall.
Deeds are males, words females are.
Wit,--the pupil of the soul's clear eye.
Zeal without knowledge is the sister of folly.