And it is very much lamented,... That you have no such mirrors as will turn Your hidden worthiness into your eye That you might see your shadow.
Poor and content is rich, and rich enough.
Life... is a paradise to what we know of death.
Every thing that grows / Holds in perfection but a little moment.
A little more than kin, and less than kind.
My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind; So flew'd, so sanded; their heads are hung with ears that sweep away the morning dew.