If he be so resolved, I can o'ersway him; for he loves to hear That unicorns may be betrayed with trees And bears with glasses, elephants with holes, Lions with toils, and men with flatterers

for my grief's so great That no supporter but the huge firm earth Can hold it up: here I and sorrows sit; Here is my throne, bid kings come bow to it. (Constance, from King John, Act III, scene 1)

Wise men ne'er sit and wail their woes, but presently prevent the ways to wail.

Adversity makes strange bedfellows.

So full of artless jealousy is guilt, It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.

To beguile the time, look like the time.

Manhood is melted into courtesies, valor into compliment, and men are only turned into tongue, and trim ones, too.