Look, what a horse should have he did not lack, Save a proud rider on his back.
The painful warrior famous for fight, After a thousand victories, once foil'd, Is from the books of honor razed quite, And all the rest forgot for which he toil'd
A very little thief of occasion will rob you of a great deal of patience.
You must confine yourself within the modest limits of order.
You cram these words into mine ears against The stomach of my sense.
As good luck would have it, comes in one Mistress Page, gives intelligence of Ford's approach, and in her invention, and Ford's wife's distraction, they conveyed me into a buck-basket.