Danger, the spur of all great minds.

Fate's such a shrewish thing.

So our lives In acts exemplary, not only win Ourselves good names, but doth to others give Matter for virtuous deeds, by which we live.

Archers ever Have two strings to bow; and shall great Cupid (Archer of archers both in men and women), Be worse provided than a common archer?

Tis immortality to die aspiring.

And let a scholar all earth's volumes carry, he will be but a walking dictionary: a mere articulate clock.

Give me a spirit that on this life's rough sea Loves t'have his sails filled with a lusty wind, Even till his sail-yards tremble, his masts crack, And his ship run on her side so low That she drinks water, and her keel plows air.