Zounds! sir, you are one of those that will not serve God if the devil bid you.

Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises.

I will be correspondent to command, And do my spiriting gently.

You have but mistook me all the while... I live by bread like you, taste grief, feel want, need friends. Conditioned thus how can you call me king?

If you would persuade, you must appeal to interest rather than intellect. We are advertis'd by our loving friends.

Who is so firm that can't be seduced?

Beauty is but a vain and doubtful good; a shining gloss that fadeth suddenly; a flower that dies when it begins to bud; a doubtful good, a gloss, a glass, a flower, lost, faded, broken, dead within an hour.