• Look what thy soul holds dear, imagine it
    To lie that way thou goest, not whence thou com'st.
    Suppose the singing birds musicians,
    The grass whereon thou tread'st the presence strewed,
    The flowers fair ladies, and thy steps no more
    Than a delight measure or a dance;
    For gnarling sorrow hath less power to bite
    The man that mocks at it and sets it light.

    William Shakespeare, Charles R. Forker (2002). “King Richard II: Third Series”, p.231, Cengage Learning EMEA