Now, God be praised, that to believing souls gives light in darkness, comfort in despair.

Mine eyes Were not in fault, for she was beautiful; Mine ears, that heard her flattery; nor my heart, That thought her like her seeming. It had been vicious To have mistrusted her.

Things bad begun make strong themselves by ill.

We must not make a scarecrow of the law, Setting it up to fear the birds of prey, And let it keep one shape till custom make it Their perch, and not their terror.

Lady, you know no rules of charity, Which renders good for bad, blessings for curses.

Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again.

The breaking of so great a thing should make A greater crack: the round world Should have shook lions into civil streets, And citizens to their dens.