The nature of bad news affects the teller.
Ambition, the soldier's virtue, rather makes choice of loss, than gain which darkens him.
Full fathom five thy father lies
He is winding the watch of his wit; by and by it will strike.
And when I am forgotten, as I shall be, And asleep in dull cold marble, where no mention Of me must be heard of, say, I taught thee.
Give me mine angle, we'll to th' river: there, My music playing far off, I will betray Tawny-finned fishes. My bended hook shall pierce Their slimy jaws; and as I draw them up, I'll think them every one an Antony, And say, 'Ah, ha! are caught!'