I had as lief have been myself alone.
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff.
... And death unloads thee.
Not stepping over the bounds of modesty.
Wherefore was I to this keen mockery born? When at your hands did I deserve this scorn? Is't not enough, is't not enough, young man, That I did never, no, nor never can, Deserve a sweet look from Demetrius' eye, But you must flout my insufficiency?
He is not great who is not greatly good.