O thou invisible spirit of wine, if thou hast no name to be known by, let us call thee devil.
Light boats sail swift, though greater hulks draw deep.
Tis time to fear when tyrants seem to kiss.
And nothing is, but what is not.
Sweet love! Sweet lines! Sweet life! Here is her hand, the agent of her heart; Here is her oath for love, her honour's pawn
Britain is A world by itself, and we will nothing pay For wearing our own noses.