Trust not my reading, nor my observations, Which with experimental seal do warrant The tenor of my book.
Friendship's full of dregs.
What is the city but the people?
Full of wise saws and modern instances.
Headstrong liberty is lashed with woe.
My crown is in my heart, not on my head; not decked with diamonds and Indian stones, nor to be seen: my crown is called content, a crown it is that seldom kings enjoy.