That in the captains but a choleric word Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy.
It is a wise father that knows his own child.
None can cure their harms by wailing them.
I am joined with no foot land-rakers, no long-staff, sixpenny strikers, none of these mad, mustachio purple-hued maltworms, but with nobility and tranquillity.
What showers arise, blown with the windy tempest of my heart
Farewell! a long farewell to all my greatness!