Love Hath Made Thee A Tame Snake

Through Tattered Clothes Great Vices Do Appear; Robes And Furred Gowns Hide All. Plate Sin With Gold And The Strong Lance Of Justice Hurtless Breaks. Arm It In Rags, A Pigmy's Straw Does Pierce It.

Methinks Sometimes I Have No More Wit Than A Christian Or An Ordinary Man Has; But I Am A Great Eater Of Beef, And I Believe That Does Harm To My Wit.

I Am Afeard There Are Few Die Well That Die In Battle, For How Can They Charitably Dispose Of Anything When Blood Is Their Argument?

Antonio: Will You Stay No Longer? Nor Will You Not That I Go With You? Sebastian: By Your Patience, No. My Stars Shine Darkly Over Me; The Malignancy Of My Fate Might, Perhaps, Distemper Yours; Therefore I Shall Crave Of You Your Leave That I May Bear My Evils Alone. It Were A Bad Recompense For Your Love To Lay Any Of Them On You.

Every Man Has Business And Desire, Such As It Is.