Sometimes we are devils to ourselves When we will tempt the frailty of our powers, Presuming on their changeful potency.

Fight valiantly to-day; and yet I do thee wrong to mind thee of it, for thou art framed of the firm truth of valor.

My charity is outrage, life my shame; And in that shame still live my sorrow's rage!

I must to the barber's, monsieur, for methinks I am marvellous hairy about the face.

I'll have no husband, if you be not he.

I had rather be a kitten and cry mew Than one of these same metre ballet-mongers.

Let me be boiled to death with melancholy.