Delivers in such apt and gracious words that aged ears play truant at his tales; And younger hearings are quite ravished; So sweet and voluble is his discourse.

The arms are fair, When the intent of bearing them is just.

I have very poor and unhappy brains for drinking.

What though care killed a cat, thou hast mettle enough in thee to kill care.

The fringed curtains of thine eye advance, And say what thou seest yond.

I cannot tell what the dickens his name is.

O heaven! were man, But constant, he were perfect.