So are you to my thoughts as food to life, or as sweet seasoned showers are to the ground.

A table-full of welcome!

I had rather be a kitten and cry mew Than one of these same metre ballet-mongers.

Let the doors be shut upon him, that he may play the fool no where but in's own house.

New customs, Though they be never so ridiculous (Nay, let em be unmanly), yet are followed.

Dreams are the children of idled minds.

The force of his own merit makes his way-a gift that heaven gives for him.