When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions.

In right and service to their noble country.

O, I do not like that paying back, 'tis a double labor.

A jest's prosperity lies in the ear Of him that hears it, never in the tongue Of him that makes it.

So many horrid Ghosts.

Good name in man and woman is the immediate jewel of their souls.

If there were reason for these miseries, then into limits could I bind my woes. If the winds rages, doth not the sea wax mad, threat'ning the welkin with its big-swoll'n face? And wilt though have a reason for this coil? I am the sea. Hark how her sighs doth blow. She is the weeping welkin, I the earth.