I scorn you, scurvy companion.

Even as one heat another heat expels, or as one nail by strength drives out another, so the remembrance of my former love is by a newer object quite forgotten.

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

That affable familiar ghost Which nightly gulls him with intelligence.

Reputation is an idle and most false imposition; oft got without merit, and lost without deserving.

I'll privily away; I love the people, But do not like to stage me to their eyes; Though it do well, I do not relish well Their loud applause and aves vehement, Nor do I think the man of safe discretion That does not affect it.

Rumor is a pipe Blown by surmises, jealousies, conjectures.