What stronger breastplate than a heart untainted! Thrice is he arm'd, that hath his quarrel just.

I have heard of your paintings too, well enough; God has given you one face, and you make yourselves another.

My crown is in my heart, not on my head.

God defend me from that Welsh fairy, Lest he transform me to a piece of cheese!

Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancy.

Tis an ill cook that cannot lick his own fingers.

For in my youth I never did apply Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood.