Every offense is not a hate at first.
Nothing in his life became him like leaving it.
A Devil, a born Devil on whose nature, nurture can never stick, on whom my pain, humanly taken, all lost, quite lost.
Why, who cries out on pride that can therein tax any private party? Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea till the weary very means do ebb?
The hand of little employment hath the daintier sense.
Cease thy counsel, for thy words fall into my ears as priceless as water into a seive.