Men must learn now with pity to dispense; For policy sits above conscience.

Conscience doth make cowards of us all.

A Devil, a born Devil on whose nature, nurture can never stick, on whom my pain, humanly taken, all lost, quite lost.

The gallantry of his grief did put me into a towering passion.

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

Now get you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to this favour she must come; make her laugh at that.

Tis mad idolatry To make the service greater than the god.