Men from children nothing differ.

I have heard of your paintings too, well enough; God has given you one face, and you make yourselves another.

I am sure care's an enemy to life.

And simple truth miscalled simplicity

Ring the alarum-bell! Blow, wind! come, wrack! At least we'll die with harness on our back.

By Heaven, my soul is purg'd from grudging hate; And with my hand I seal my true heart's love

And his unkindness may defeat my life, But never taint my love.