If there were reason for these miseries, then into limits could I bind my woes. If the winds rages, doth not the sea wax mad, threat'ning the welkin with its big-swoll'n face? And wilt though have a reason for this coil? I am the sea. Hark how her sighs doth blow. She is the weeping welkin, I the earth.

I was a coward on instinct.

For trust not him that hath once broken faith

Such as we are made of, such we be.

Light and lust are deadly enemies.

None can cure their harms by wailing them.

Ambition, the soldier's virtue.