What the vengeance, could he not speak 'em fair?
One good deed dying tongueless Slaughters a thousand waiting upon that. Our praises are our wages.
And where the offense is, let the great axe fall.
Or art thou but / A dagger of the mind, a false creation, / Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?
There's neither honesty, manhood, nor good fellowship in thee.
For who so firm that cannot be seduced?