Oh! it offends me to the soul to hear a robust periwig-pated fellow, tear a passion to tatters, to very rags, to split the ears of the groundlings.

We do not keep the outward form of order, where there is deep disorder in the mind.

The lady doth protest too much, methinks.

He doth nothing but talk of his horses.

Nature, as it grows again toward earth, is fashioned for the journey, dull and heavy.

Thus may poor fools Belive false teachers.

Now I am past all comforts here, but prayer.