My grief lies onward, and my joy behind.
Men from children nothing differ.
Delay leads impotent and snail-paced beggary.
Pride went before, ambition follows him.
You wear out a good wholesome forenoon in hearing a cause between an orange wife and a fosset-seller.
For 'tis the sport to have the engineer Hoist with his own petar; and't shall go hard But I will delve one yard below their mines And blow them at the moon.