Get thee glass eyes, and like a scurvy politician, seem to see the things thou dost not.
O for a horse with wings!
Since mine own doors refuse to entertain me, I'll knock elsewhere, to see if they'll disdain me
I humbly do beseech of your pardon, For too much loving you
Blow, blow, thou winter wind Thou art not so unkind, As man's ingratitude.
When faced with a sea of troubles, take action, and in so doing end it.