Mine eyes smell onions: I shall weep anon.
I must be cruel, only to be kind.
No reckoning made, but sent to my account with all my imperfections on my head.
. . from this moment The very firstlings of my heart shall be The firstlings of my hand. And even now, To crown my thoughts with acts, be it thought and done.
I have had a most rare vision. I have had a dream, past the wit of man to say what dream it was.
Have more than thou showest, Speak less than thou knowest, Lend less than thou owest.