You speak like a green girl / unsifted in such perilous circumstances.

Tired with all these, for restful death I cry.

Plenty and peace breed cowards; hardness ever of hardiness is mother.

Why, who cries out on pride that can therein tax any private party? Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea till the weary very means do ebb?

Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them.

A woman moved is like a fountain troubled, Muddy, ill-seeming, thick, bereft of beauty.

Nice customs curtsy to great kings.