ANGER:
To climb steep hills,
Requires slow pace at first: anger is like
A full hot horse, who being allowed his way,
Self-mettle tires him.
DOUBT:
The wound of peace is surety,
Surety secure; but modest doubt is call’d
The beacon of the wise, the tent that
searches
To the bottom of the worst
SORROW:
Sorrow breaks seasons, and reposing hours,
Makes the night morning, and the noon-tide
night
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