Henry Wotton

The itch of disputing will prove the scab of churches.

An ambassador is an honest man sent to lie abroad for the commonwealth.

Hanging was the worst use a man could be put to.

He first deceased; she for a little tried To live without him, liked it not, and died.

Love lodged in a woman's breast Is but a guest.

I am but a gatherer and disposer of other men's stuff.

You meaner beauties of the night, That poorly satisfy our eyes More by your number than your light; You common people of the skies, What are you when the sun shall rise?

Lord of himself, though not of lands; And having nothing, yet hath all.

Who God doth late and early pray, More of his grace than gifts to send, And entertains the harmless day With a well-chosen book or friend.

How happy is he born and taught, That serveth not another's will; Whose armor is his honest thought, And simple truth his utmost skill!