Words borrowed of antiquity do lend a kind of majesty to style, and are not without their delight sometimes.

Many might go to heaven with half the labor they go to hell.

Language most shews a man: Speak, that I may see thee.

I feel my griefs too, and there scarce is groundUpon my flesh t’inflict another wound.Yet dare I not complain, or wish for deathWith holy Paul; lest it be thought the breathOf discontent; or that these...

There was never a great genius without a touch of madness.

He wil sooner lose his best friend, then his least jest.

Indeed there’s a woundy luck in names.

He knows not his own strength that hath not met adversity.

Mischiefs feed / Like beasts, till they be fat, and then they bleed.

Riches, the dumb god that giv’st all men tongues, / That canst do nought, and yet mak’st men do all things; / The price of souls; even hell, with thee to boot, / Is made...