A high hope for a low heaven: God grant us patience!
My language! heavens!I am the best of them that speak this speech. Were I but where 'tis spoken.
Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice.
Thou mak'st me merry: I am full of pleasure; let us be jocund
Aand in the end, Having my freedom, boast of nothing else But that I was a journeyman to grief?
Who is so firm that can't be seduced?