O wretched state! O bosom black as death! O limed soul that, struggling to be free, art more engaged! Help, angels! Make assay! Bow, stubborn knees! and, heart with strings of steel, be soft as sinews of the new-born babe!
Downy sleep, death's counterfeit.
To take arms against a sea of troubles.
Ay, Much is the force of heaven-bred poesy.
Honesty is not the best policy - merely the safest
The will is infinite and the execution confin'd, the desire is boundless and the act a slave to limit.