We will pay him off one of these days.

He loves you no less than he does his prince." "I bear no malice to him for that, your highness.

He covets the smiles of the rising sun and rails at the humble object which, he thinks, obstructs the beam." "He might be easy on that score: I hate the man, and his cold formalities.

He is ever fancying that we princes are intent on the affairs of state, and forgets that we are mortal and that youth is the age for the bower, not the council.

My precious Calderon, life would be dull without thee: how I rejoice at thy return, thou best inventor of pleasure that satiety ever prayed for! Nay, blush not: some men despise thee for thy talents: I do thee homage.