That which in mean men we entitle patience is pale cold cowardice in noble breasts.
Look like the innocent flower, But be the serpent under it.
Love is too young to know what conscience is.
The man that hath no music in himself
There's an old saying that applies to me: you can't lose a game if you don't play the game. (Act 1, scene 4)
O! for a muse of fire, that would ascend the brightest heaven of invention.