However wickedness outstrips men, it has no wings to fly from God.

A very little thief of occasion will rob you of a great deal of patience.

For this, be sure, tonight thou shalt have cramps, Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up. Urchins Shall forth at vast of night that they may work All exercise on thee. Thou shalt be pinched As thick as honeycomb, each pinch more stinging Than bees that made 'em.

Then was I as a tree whose boughs did bend with fruit; but in one night, a storm or robbery, call it what you will, shook down my mellow hangings, nay, my leaves, and left me bare to weather.

Nature hath framed strange fellows in her time.

What else may hap, to time I will commit.

Go, bid the soldiers shoot.