Strong reasons make strong actions.
Some sins do bear their privilege on earth.
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 heaven I were! For then, ’tis like I should forget myself.
How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds, Makes deeds ill done!
And oftentimes excusing of a fault, doth make the fault the worse by the excuse.
A little snow, tumbled about, Anon becomes a mountain.