I am not of that feather, to shake off my friend when he must need me
Modest wisdom plucks me from over-credulous haste.
He receives comfort like cold porridge.
The love that follows us sometime is our trouble, which still we thank as love.
Love is merely a madness; and, I tell you, deserves as well a dark house and a whip as madmen do; and the reason why they are not so punish'd and cured is that the lunacy is so ordinary that the whippers are in love too.
Glory grows guilty of detested crimes.