Opinion, A Sovereign Mistress Of

I Beseech You, Wrest Once The Law To Your Authority: To Do A Great Right, Do A Little Wrong.

They Do Not Abuse The King That Flatter Him. For Flattery Is The Bellows Blows Up Sin; The Thing The Which Is Flattered, But A Spark To Which That Blast Gives Heat And Stronger Glowing.

That We Would Do We Should Do When We Would, For This 'would' Changes, And Hath Abatements And Delays As Many As There Are Tongues, Are Hands, Are Accidents, And Then This 'should' Is Like A Spendthrift Sigh, That Hurts By Easing.

Infirm Of Purpose! Give Me The Daggers: The Sleeping And The Dead Are But As Pictures: ‘tis The Eye Of Childhood That Fears A Painted Devil

Love Is . . . A Madness Most Discreet