Men At Some Time Are Masters Of

An Envious Fever Of Pale And Bloodless Emulation.

Every Offense Is Not A Hate At First.

I Am Not Merry, But I Do Beguile The Thing I Am By Seeming Otherwise.

What's Gone, And What's Past Help, Should Be Past Grief.

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)