Let Him Smell His Way To Dover!

O, Reason Not The Need!

Gloucester: Yet So Much Is My Poverty Of Spirit, So Mighty And So Many My Defects, As I Had Rather Hide Me From My Greatness, Being A Bark To Brook No Mighty Sea, Than In My Greatness Covet To Be Hid, And In The Vapour Of My Glory Smother'd. But God Be Thanked. . . .

A Tardiness In Nature, Which Often Leaves The History Unspoke, That It Intends To Do.

Loathsome Canker Lives In Sweetest Bud.

But What's So Blessed-fair That Fears No Blot? Thou Mayst Be False, And Yet I Know It Not.