The king hath note of all that they intend, by interception which they dream not of.

I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, Straining upon the start. The game's afoot; Follow your spirit: and upon this charge, Cry — God for Harry! England and Saint George!

Flout 'em, and scout 'em; and scout 'em, and flout 'em; / Thought is free.

Miracles are ceased; and therefore we must needs admit the means, how things are perfected.

... by indirections find directions out.

So sweet was ne'er so fatal. I must weep. But they are creul tears. This sorrow's heavenly; it strikes where it doth love.

Most dangerous is that temptation that doth goad us on to sin in loving virtue.