He was met even now As mad as the vex'd sea; singing aloud; Crown'd with rank fumiter and furrow-weeds, With bur-docks, hemlock, nettles, cuckoo-flowers, Darnel, and all the idle weeds that grow In our sustaining corn.

O, spirit of love, how quick and fresh art thou!

Extremity is the trier of spirits.

Slander, whose whisper over the world's diameter, as level as the cannon to its blank, transports its poisoned shot.

Dissembling harlot, thou art false in all!

I can see he's not in your good books,' said the messenger. 'No, and if he were I would burn my library.

We wound our modesty and make foul the clearness of our deservings, when of ourselves we publish them.