O father Abram, what these Christians are, Whose own hard dealing teaches them suspect The thoughts of others!
Love bears it out even to the edge of doom.
RUMOUR: "Upon my tongues continual slanders ride, The which in every language I pronounce, Stuffing the ears of men with false reports.
As flies to wanton boys, are we to the gods; they kill us for their sport.
Thou unfit for any place but hell.
When devils will the blackest sins put on They do suggest at first with heavenly shows