Of human acts, and enterprises of a man.
I want some seasonings of adversity,
Some strokes of the old mortifier Calamity,
To take these swellings down, divines call vanity.
1st Gent. Mr. Woodvil, Mr. Woodvil.
2nd Gent. Where is Woodvil?
Gray. Let him alone. I have seen him in these lunes before. His abstractions must not taint the good mirth.
John (continuing to soliloquize). O for some friend, now,
To conceal nothing from, to have no secrets.
How fine and noble a thing is confidence,