These cardinals trifle with me; I abhor; This dilatory sloth and tricks of Rome.
What ugly sights of death within mine eyes!
O for a horse with wings!
Time is the nurse and breeder of all good.
I love a ballad but even too well if it be doleful matter merrily set down, or a very pleasant thing indeed and sung lamentably.
Truly thou art damned, like an ill-roasted egg, all on one side.