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.

Have more than thou showest, Speak less than thou knowest, Lend less than thou owest.

Nothing comes amiss, so money comes withal.

Tax not so bad a voice to slander music any more than once.

Temptation is the fire that brings up the scum of the heart.

So. Lie there, my art.

They do not abuse the king that flatter him. For flattery is the bellows blows up sin; The thing the which is flattered, but a spark To which that blast gives heat and stronger glowing.