Then is it sin to rush into the secret house of death. Ere death dare come to us?
Oh, I have passed a miserable night, so full of ugly sights, of ghastly dreams!
Thrust your head into the public street, to gaze on Christian fools with varnish'd faces.
Self-love, my liege, is not so vile a sin, as self-neglecting.
Love sees with the heart and not with mind.
Doubt is a thief that often makes us fear to tread where we might have won.