Grief best is pleased with grief's society.
A college of wit-crackers cannot flout me out of my humor. Dost thou think I care for a satire or an epigram?
Dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant can trickle when she wounds!
My heart suspects more than mine eye can see.
O Lord that lends me life, Lend me a heart replete with thankfulness!
Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice.