So sweet was ne'er so fatal. I must weep. But they are creul tears. This sorrow's heavenly; it strikes where it doth love.

“He that is proud eats up himself: pride is his own glass, his own trumpet, his …”

“I can no other answer make, but, thanks, and thanks.”

“This is the excellent foppery of the world, that,when we are sick in fortune,--…”

“Men in rage strike those that wish them best.”