‘Tis not enough to help the feeble up, but to support him after.
We have seen better days.
The painting is almost the natural man; For since dishonour traffics with man’s nature, He is but outside: these pencill’d figures are Even such as they give out.
Men shut their doors against a setting sun.
Like madness is the glory of this life, as this pomp shows to a little oil and root.
He, that loves to be flattered, is worthy o’the flatterer.