The patient must minister to himself

But O, how bitter a thing it is to look into happiness through another man's eyes.

She will die if you love her not, And she will die ere she might make her love known

You take my life when you do take the means whereby I live

Yield not thy neck To fortunes yoke, but let thy dauntless mind Still ride in triumph over all mischance.

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.

O teach me how I should forget to think (1.1.224)