Her blood is settled, and her joints are stiff; Life and these lips have long been separated: Death lies on her like an untimely frost Upon the sweetest flower of all the field.

The tongues of dying men enforce attention like deep harmony.

Come unto these yellow sands, And then take hands. Curtsied when you have and kissed The wild waves whist, Foot is featly here and there; And, sweet sprites, the burden bear. Ariel's song, scene II, Act I

Policy sits above conscience.

Tis now the very witching time of night, when churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out Contagion to this world.

O all you host of heaven! O earth! What else? And shall I couple Hell?

By a divine instinct, men's minds mistrust ensuing danger; as, by proof, we see the waters swell before a boisterous storm.