When holy and devout religious men are at their beads, 'tis hard to draw them thence; so sweet is zealous contemplation.
Love denied blights the soul we owe to God.
The icy precepts of respect.
The quality of nothing hath not such need to hide itself
The gallantry of his grief did put me into a towering passion.
Scarce can I speak, my choler is so great. Oh! I could hew up rocks, and fight with flint.