“What must be shall be.”

“Shall we their fond pageant see?Lord, what fools these mortals be!”

“Time shall unfold what plaited cunning hides:Who cover faults, at last shame them derides.”

“Conceal me what I am, and be my aid for such disguise as haply shall become the form of my intent.”

“Good Lord, what madness rules in brainsick menWhen for so slight and frivolous a causeSuch factious emulations shall arise!”

“What would you have? Your gentleness shall force More than your force move us to gentleness.”

“But shall we wear these glories for a day?Or shall they last, and we rejoice in them?”