Sorrow, like a heavy ringing bell, once set on ringing, with its own weight goes; then little strength rings out the doleful knell.

One man in his time plays many parts.

Tis a happy thing To be the father unto many sons.

Lord, Lord, how this world is given to lying!

Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather the multitudinous seas incarnadine, making the green one red.

And all this day an unaccustomed spirit lifts me above the ground with cheerful thoughts.

When the sea was calm all ships alike showed mastership in floating.