Love thrives not in the heart that shadows dreadeth

Ill deeds are doubled with an evil word.

...too much sadness hath congealed your blood,And melancholy is the nurse of frenzy.

To business that we love we rise betime, and go to't with delight.

Have you not love enough to bear with me, when that rash humor which my mother gave me makes me forgetful.

Miracles are ceased; and therefore we must needs admit the means, how things are perfected.

The means that heaven yields must be embraced, and not neglected; else, if heaven would, and we will not heaven's offer, we refuse the proffered means of succor and redress.