He's loved of the distracted multitude, who like not in their judgement, but their eyes.

For some must watch, while some must sleep So runs the world away

Teach me, dear creature, how to think and speak; Lay open to my earthy-gross conceit, Smother'd in errors, feeble, shallow, weak, The folded meaning of your words' deceit.

Why, who cries out on pride that can therein tax any private party? Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea till the weary very means do ebb?

Right joyous are we to behold your face, Most worthy brother England; fairly met!

It is thyself, mine own self's better part; Mine eye's clear eye, my dear heart's dearer heart; My food, my fortune, and my sweet hope's aim, My sole earth's heaven, and my heaven's claim.

Some kinds of baseness are nobly undergone.