And thence from Athens turn away our eyes To seek new friends and stranger companies.
A heavy heart bears not a nimble tongue.
O, call back yesterday, bid time return
What though care killed a cat, thou hast mettle enough in thee to kill care.
There is thy gold, worse poison to men's souls, Doing more murder in this loathsome world, Than these poor compounds that thou mayst not sell.
Should the poor be flattered? No; let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp, and crook the pregnant hinges of the knee where thrift may follow fawning.