Minds that are great and free, should not on fortune pause: 'Tis crown enough to virtue still, her own applause.
It is a note Of upstart greatness to observe and watch For these poor trifles, which the noble mind Neglects and scorns.
Vice Is like a fury to the vicious mind, And turns delight itself to punishment.
A new disease? I know not, new or old, but it may well be called poor mortals plague for, like a pestilence, it doth infect the houses of the brain till not a thought, or motion, in the mind, be free from the black poison of suspect.
Memory, of all the powers of the mind, is the most delicate and frail.