I have not slept. Between the acting of a dreadful thing And the first motion, all the interim is Like a phantasma, or a hideous dream: The Genius and the mortal instruments Are then in council; and the state of man, Like to a little kingdom, suffers then The nature of an insurrection.

We must not make a scarecrow of the law, Setting it up to fear the birds of prey, And let it keep one shape till custom make it Their perch, and not their terror.

What fates impose, that men must needs abide; it boots not to resist both wind and tide.

My affection hath an unknown bottom, like the Bay of Portugal.

But miserable most, to love unloved? This you should pity rather than despise

You are not worth the dust which the rude wind Blows in your face.

O, I do not like that paying back, 'tis a double labor.