Or art thou but / A dagger of the mind, a false creation, / Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?
Every good servant does not all commands.
Two women placed together makes cold weather.
Tis but a base, ignoble mind That mounts no higher than a bird can soar.
I had rather have a fool to make me merry than experience to make me sad and to travel for it too!
So. Lie there, my art.