At this hour Lie at my mercy all mine enemies.
Into what dangers would you lead me, Cassius, That you would have me seek into myself For that which is not in me?
Sweet recreation barred, what doth ensue but moody and dull melancholy, kinsman to grim and comfortless despair.
Grief best is pleased with grief's society.
Virtuous and fair, royal and gracious.
Every cloud engenders not a storm.