You cram these words into mine ears against The stomach of my sense.
Kindness in women, not their beauteous looks, Shall win my love.
This day's black fate on more days doth depend; This but begins the woe, others must end.
Sick in the world's regard, wretched and low.
Policy sits above conscience.
All his successors gone before him have done 't; and all his ancestors that come after him may.