Self-love, my liege, is not so vile a sin as self-neglecting.
Sweet are the uses of adversity.
Death, a necessary end, will come when it will come.
For thy sweet love remembr'd such wealth bringsThat then, I scorn to change my state with kings.
A politician . . . One that would circumvent God.
Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell.
Smooth runs the water where the brook is deep.
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