Through tatter'd clothes small vices do appear;
Robes and furr'd gowns hide all. Plate sin with gold,
And the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks;
Arm it in rags, a pygmy's straw does pierce it.
None does offend, none- I say none! I'll able 'em.

“I had rather be a canker in a hedge than a rose in his grace; and it better fit…”

“Be that thou know'st thou art, and then thou art as great as that thou fear'st.”

“Who buys a minute's mirth to wail a week? Or sell eternity to get a toy? For on…”

“And the poor beetle, that we tread upon,In corporal sufferance finds a pang as …”