By Heaven, My Soul Is Purg'd From

What Need The Bridge Much Broader Than The Flood?

The Sense Of Death Is Most In Apprehension, And The Poor Beetle, That We Tread Upon, In Corporal Sufferance Finds A Pang As Great As When A Giant Dies.

He That Loves To Be Flattered Is Worthy O' The Flatterer.

Here Comes A Man Of Comfort, Whose Advice Hath Often Stilled My Brawling Discontent.

Teach Me, Dear Creature, How To Think And Speak; Lay Open To My Earthy-gross Conceit, Smother'd In Errors, Feeble, Shallow, Weak, The Folded Meaning Of Your Words' Deceit.