Things done well and with a care, exempt themselves from fear.
Tis mad idolatry To make the service greater than the god.
There's no trust, No faith, no honesty in men; all perjured, All forsworn, all naught, all dissemblers.
The jury passing on the prisoner's life may in the sworn twelve have a thief or two guiltier than him they try.
Confusion now hath made his masterpiece.
Instead of weeping when a tragedy occurs in a songbird's life, it sings away its grief. I believe we could well follow the pattern of our feathered friends.