The heavens rejoice in motion, why should I Abjure my so much loved variety.
Great sorrows cannot speak.
Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
Humiliation is the beginning of sanctification.
If I lose at play, I blaspheme; if my fellow loses, he blasphemes. So, God is always the loser.
Whilst my physicians by their love are grown Cosmographers, and I their map, who lie Flat on this bed.