This tyrant, whose sole name blisters our tongues,Was once thought honest.

Small things make base men proud.

Speak on, but be not over-tedious.

If thou dost seek to have what thou dost hide, By self-example mayst thou be denied.

The bird that hath been limed in a bush, with trembling wings misdoubteth every bush.

I could a tale unfold whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood, Make thy two eyes like stars start from their spheres, Thy knotted and combined locks to part, And each particular hair to stand on end Like quills upon the fretful porpentine. But this eternal blazon must not be To ears of flesh and blood. List, list, O list!

The rarer action is in virtue than in vengeance.