I have heard of your paintings too, well enough; God has given you one face, and you make yourselves another.

If by chance I talk a little wild, forgive me; I had it from my father.

In religion, What damned error but some sober brow Will bless it, and approve it with a text, Hiding the grossness with fair ornament?

My crown is in my heart, not on my head; not decked with diamonds and Indian stones, nor to be seen: my crown is called content, a crown it is that seldom kings enjoy.

'Twas merry when You wagered on your angling, when your diver Did hang a salt fish on his hook, which he With fervency drew up.

They have been grand-jurymen since before Noah was a sailor

Come, and take choice of all my library, And so beguile thy sorrow.