Let the doors be shut upon him, that he may play the fool no where but in's own house.

If thou dost seek to have what thou dost hide, By self-example mayst thou be denied.

'Tis brief, my lord...as woman's love.

He is deformed, crooked, old and sere, Ill-faced, worse bodied, shapeless everywhere; Vicious, ungentle, foolish, blunt, unkind; Stigmatical in making, worse in mind.

In thy youth wast as true a lover, As ever sighed upon a midnight pillow

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

Now the melancholy God protect thee, and the tailor make thy garments of changeable taffeta, for thy mind is opal.