Many A True Word Hath Been Spoken

Methinks You Are My Glass, And Not My Brother: I See By You I Am A Sweet-faced Youth.

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

The Plants Look Up To Heaven, From Whence They Have Their Nourishment.

Can It Be That Modesty May More Betray Our Sense Than Woman's Lightness? Having Waste Ground Enough, Shall We Desire To Raze The Sanctuary And Pitch Our Evils There?

When He Is Best, He Is A Little Worse Than A Man; And When He Is Worst, He Is Little Better Than A Beast.