Grief best is pleased with grief's society.

Nor shall this peace sleep with her; but as when The bird of wonder dies, the maiden phoenix, Her ashes new-create another heir As great in admiration as herself.

And oftentimes excusing of a fault Doth make the fault the worse by the excuse, As patches set upon a little breach, Discredit more in hiding of the fault Than did the fault before it was so patch'd.

Well, I must be patient; there is no fettering of authority.

Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.

A little fire is quickly trodden out, Which, being suffer'd, rivers cannot quench.

Patience is sottish, and impatience does become a dog that's mad.