... the spring, the summer, The chilling autumn, angry winter, change Their wonted liveries; and the mazed world By their increase, now knows not which is which.
Sycorax has grown into a hoop
Plenty and peace breed cowards; hardness ever of hardiness is mother.
O Judgment ! Thou art fled to brutish beasts, and men have lost their reason !
I have set my life upon a cast, And I will stand the hazard of the die.
Dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant can trickle when she wounds!