Be Checked For Silence, But Never Taxed

I Had Rather Be A Kitten, And Cry Mew, Than One Of These Same Meeter Ballad-mongers: I Had Rather Heare A Brazen Candlestick Turn'd, Or A Dry Wheele Grate On The Axle-tree, And That Would Set My Teeth Nothing An Edge, Nothing So Much, As Mincing Poetrie.

When My Love Swears That She Is Made Of Truth, I Do Believe Her, Though I Know She Lies.

Conscience Is A Blushing, Shamefaced Spirit Than Mutinies In A Man's Bosom; It Fills One Full Of Obstacles.

What Stronger Breastplate Than A Heart Untainted! Thrice Is He Arm'd, That Hath His Quarrel Just.

How Many Cowards Whose Hearts Are All As False As Stairs Of Sand, Wear Yet Upon Their Chins The Beards Of Hercules And Frowning Mars, Who Inward Searched, Have Livers White As Milk!