They have been at a great feast of languages, and stolen the scraps.
Headstrong liberty is lashed with woe.
Farewell! a long farewell to all my greatness!
The plants look up to heaven, from whence they have their nourishment.
Your lordship, though not clean past your youth, have yet some smack of age in you, some relish of the saltiness of time.
I am a foe to tyrants, and my country's friend.