Were't Not For Laughing, I Should Pity

A Heavy Heart Bears Not A Nimble Tongue.

Kent. Where's The King? Gent. Contending With The Fretful Elements; Bids The Wind Blow The Earth Into The Sea, Or Swell The Curled Waters 'bove The Main, That Things Might Change Or Cease; Tears His White Hair, Which The Impetuous Blasts, With Eyeless Rage, Catch In Their Fury And Make Nothing Of; Strives In His Little World Of Man To Outscorn The To-and-fro-conflicting Wind And Rain. This Night, Wherein The Cub-drawn Bear Would Couch, The Lion And The Belly-pinched Wolf Keep Their Fur Dry, Unbonneted He Runs, And Bids What Will Take All.

I Love You With So Much Of My Heart That None Is Left To Protest.

No Stony Bulwark Can Resist The Love, And Love Dares What Anyone Can Love.

Thy Words, I Grant Are Bigger, For I Wear Not, My Dagger In My Mouth.