Flattery

Physicians are the cobblers, rather the botchers, of men's bodies; as the one patches our tattered clothes, so the other solders our diseased flesh.

Sister, look ye, How, by a new creation of my tailor's I've shook off old mortality.

Her words are trusty heralds to her mind.

A bachelor May thrive by observation, on a little. A single life's no burden: but to draw In yokes is chargeable, and will require A double maintenance.

Oh, happy kings, Whose thrones are raised in their subjects' hearts.

Tell us, pray, what devil This melancholy is, which can transform Men into monsters.