Thrice is he arm'd that hath his quarrel just, And he but naked, though lock'd up in steel, Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted.

So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

A jest's prosperity lies in the ear

Fondling,' she saith, 'since I have hemm'd thee here Within the circuit of this ivory pale, I'll be a park, and thou shalt be my deer; Feed where thou wilt, on mountain or in dale: Graze on my lips, and if those hills be dry, Stray lower, where the pleasant fountains lie.

To lapse in fulness Is sorer than to lie for need, and falsehood Is worse in kings than beggars.

A politician... one that would circumvent God.

Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises.