Thus can the demigod Authority Make us pay down for our offense by weight The words of heaven; on whom it will, it will, On whom it will not, so: yet still 'tis just.

The attempt and not the deed confounds us.

It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury; signifying nothing.

Though this be madness, yet there is method in't.

Yet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell: It fell upon a little western flower, Before milk-white, now purple with love's wound, And maidens call it love-in-idleness.

There are no tricks in plain and simple faith.

Wisely weigh our sorrow with our comfort.