The View
To hide us from pursuit that will be made After my flight. This is no place; this house is but a butchery; Abhor it, fear it, do not enter it. 'Good morrow, fool,' quoth I; 'No, sir,' quoth he, 'Call me not fool till heaven hath sent me.
Life of Peace
The Thinker
The jeweller that owes the ring is sent for, And he shall surety me. But, poor old man, thou prun'st a rotten tree That cannot so much as a blossom yield In lieu of all thy pains and husbandry.
The Council
Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown. It will make you melancholy, Monsieur Jaques. Now in respect it is in the fields, it pleaseth me well; but in respect it is not in the court, it is tedious.
Nature constanly imitates art.