8 Stands not within the prospect of belief. And these are of them. The insane root That takes the reason prisoner. Two truths are told, As happy prologues to the swelling act Of the imperial theme. And make my seated heart knock at my ribs, Against the use of nature.
Present fears Are less than horrible imaginings.
Nothing is But what is not. If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me. 16 Come what come may, Time and the hour runs through the roughest day. There 's no art To find the mind's construction in the face. 19 More is thy due than more than all can pay.