Our enemies are our outward consciences.
So. Lie there, my art.
O! that a man might know The end of this day's business, ere it come; But it sufficeth that the day will end, And then the end is known.
Time shall unfold what plaited cunning hides: Who cover faults, at last shame them derides.
A politician... one that would circumvent God.
Live in thy shame, but die not shame with thee!