Why, who cries out on pride that can therein tax any private party? Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea till the weary very means do ebb?
Though those that are betray'd Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor stands in worse case of woe
For she had eyes and chose me.
Art made tongue-tied by authority.
I do know when the blood burns, how prodigal the soul lends the tongue vows.
Sweet are the uses of adversity