Though authority be a stubborn bear, yet he is oft let by the nose with gold.

To some kind of men their graces serve them but as enemies.

Nay, do not think I flatter. For what advancement may I hope from thee, That no revenue hast but thy good spirits To feed and clothe thee? Why should the poor be flattered?

I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon, Than such a Roman.

Why, who cries out on pride that can therein tax any private party? Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea till the weary very means do ebb?

Blest are those Whose blood and judgment are so well commingled, That they are not a pipe for fortune's finger To sound what stop she please.

And where the offense is, let the great axe fall.