Thou hast no figures nor no fantasies Which busy care draws in the brains of men; Therefore thou sleep'st so sound.
Let me be ignorant, and in nothing good, but graciously to know I am no better.
Take it in what sense thou wilt.
For they are yet ear-kissing arguments.
Company, villainous company, hath been the spoil of me.
Soft pity enters an iron gate.