Every Cloud Engenders Not A Storm.

I Do Beseech You- Though I Perchance Am Vicious In My Guess , That Your Wisdom Yet From One That So Imperfectly Conjects Would Take No Notice, Nor Build Yourself A Trouble Out Of His Scattering And Unsure Observance.

Treason And Murder Ever Kept Together, As Two Yoke-devils Sworn To Either's Purpose, Working So Grossly In A Natural Cause That Admiration Did Not Whoop At Them; But Thou, 'gainst All Proportion, Didst Bring In Wonder To Wait On Treason And On Murder; And Whatsoever Cunning Fiend It Was That Wrought Upon Thee So Preposterously Hath Got The Voice In Hell For Excellence.

To Hold, As 't Were, The Mirror Up To Nature.

Love And Meekness, Lord, Become A Churchman Better Than Ambition: Win Straying Souls With Modesty Again, Cast None Away.

You Taught Me Language, And My Profit On't / Is, I Know How To Curse