Strong reasons make strong actions.
Some sins do bear their privilege on earth.
And oftentimes excusing of a fault doth make the fault the worse by the excuse.
To me and to the state of my great grief let kings assemble, for my grief’s so great that no supporter but the huge firm earth can hold it up. Here I and sorrows sit. Here is my throne; bid kings come bow to it.
Thou wear a lion’s hide! doff it for shame, and hang a calf’s-skin on those recreant limbs.
News fitting to the night, black, fearful, comfortless, and horrible.
Nay, but make haste! The better foot before!
Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale, vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man.
I will instruct my sorrows to be proud; for grief is proud and makes his owner stoop.
I am not mad: I would to God I were, for then ’tis like I should forget myself.
How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds makes deeds ill done!
A little snow, tumbled about, anon becomes a mountain.
