Honest plain words best pierce the ear of grief.
The labor we delight in physics [cures] pain.
A jest's prosperity lies in the ear Of him that hears it, never in the tongue Of him that makes it.
Affection, mistress of passion, sways it to the mood of what it likes or loathes.
By heaven, I'll make a ghost of him that lets me.
Love adds a precious seeing to the eye.