Upon His Royal Face There Is No

And Nothing Is, But What Is Not.

Virtue Is Chok'd With Foul Ambition

So Will I Turn Her Virtue Into Pitch, And Out Of Her Own Goodness Make The Net That Shall Enmesh Them All.

More Of Your Conversation Would Infect My Brain.

Violent Fires Soon Burn Out Themselves, Small Showers Last Long, But Sudden Storms Are Short; He Tires Betimes That Spurs Too Fast.