They have been at a great feast of languages, and stolen the scraps.
Trust not my reading, nor my observations, Which with experimental seal do warrant The tenor of my book.
The fringed curtains of thine eye advance, And say what thou seest yond.
There is nothing but roguery to be found in villainous men.
Full many a glorious morn I have seen Flatter the mountain-tops with sovereign eye, Kissing with golden face the meadows green, Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy.
Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot that it do singe yourself.