Go hang yourself, you naughty mocking uncle!

Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises, Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not. Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments Will hum about mine ears; and sometime voices, That, if I then had waked after long sleep, Will make me sleep again: and then, in dreaming, The clouds methought would open, and show riches Ready to drop upon me; that, when I waked, I cried to dream again.

To climb steep hills requires a slow pace at first.

I know a place where the wild thyme blows, where oxlips and the nodding violet grows.

Let me have war, say I; it exceeds peace as far as day does night; it's spritely, waking, audible, and full of vent.

I hate ingratitude more in a man than lying, vainness, babbling, drunkenness, or any taint of vice whose strong corruption inhabits our frail blood".

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