Free from gross passion or of mirth or anger

The painful warrior famous for fight, After a thousand victories, once foil'd, Is from the books of honor razed quite, And all the rest forgot for which he toil'd

Methinks sometimes I have no more wit than a Christian.

O Judgment ! Thou art fled to brutish beasts, and men have lost their reason !

As good luck would have it, comes in one Mistress Page, gives intelligence of Ford's approach, and in her invention, and Ford's wife's distraction, they conveyed me into a buck-basket.

Fools are as like husbands as pilchards are to herrings, the husband's the bigger.

For this relief, much thanks