Take You Me For A Sponge?

Gold Were As Good As Twenty Orators.

For My Part, If A Lie May Do Thee Grace, I'll Gild It With The Happiest Terms I Have.

Keep Up Your Bright Swords, For The Dew Will Rust Them.

Religious Canons, Civil Laws, Are Cruel; Then What Should War Be?

The Crow Doth Sing As Sweetly As The Lark When Neither Is Attended; And I Think The Nightingale, If She Should Sing By Day When Every Goose Is Cackling, Would Be Thought No Better A Musician Than The Wren. How Many Thing By Season Seasoned Are To Their Right Praise And True Perfection!