Give to a gracious message An host of tongues, but let ill tidings tell Themselves when they be felt.
I have had a most rare vision. I have had a dream, past the wit of man to say what dream it was.
More matter with less art.
No stony bulwark can resist the love, and love dares what anyone can love.
Mind your speech a little lest you should mar your fortunes.
Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by this sun of York; And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.