Un-thread the rude eye of rebellion, and welcome home again discarded faith.
I am not only witty in myself, but the cause that wit is in other men.
What a deformed thief this fashion is.
Honest plain words best pierce the ear of grief.
Pardon, gentles all, the flat unraised spirits that have dared on this unworthy scaffold to bring forth so great an object.
One whom the music of his own vain tongue doth ravish like enchanting harmony.