Thrust your head into the public street, to gaze on Christian fools with varnish'd faces.
The hideous god of war.
Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania
Bounty, being free itself, thinks all others so.
The third day comes a frost, a killing frost.
for my grief's so great That no supporter but the huge firm earth Can hold it up: here I and sorrows sit; Here is my throne, bid kings come bow to it. (Constance, from King John, Act III, scene 1)