Two voices are there; one is of the sea, One of the mountains: each a mighty Voice.

O Cuckoo! shall I call thee bird,Or but a wandering voice?

Her voice was ever soft, Gentle, and low, an excellent thing in woman.

I thank you for your voices, thank you! Your most sweet voices! Now you have left your voices, I have no further with you.

I grant you, friends, if you should fright the ladies out of their wits, they would have no more discretion but to hang us; but I will aggravate my voice so that I will roar you as gently as any suckling dove; I will roar you an 'twere any nightingale.

It is the still small voice that the soul heeds; not the deafening blasts of doom.