The attempt and not the deed confounds us.

His heart as far from fraud as heaven from earth.

Yet do I fear thy nature; It is too full o' the milk of human kindness To catch the nearest way: thou wouldst be great; Art not without ambition, but without The illness should attend it: what thou wouldst highly, That wouldst thou holily; wouldst not play false, And yet wouldst wrongly win.

Verily, I swear, it is better to be lowly born, and range with humble livers in content, than to be perked up in a glistering grief, and wear a golden sorrow.

You Jig, you amble, and you lisp.

O teach me how I should forget to think (1.1.224)

Thus may poor fools Belive false teachers.