The rarer action is in virtue than in vengeance.

The sense of death is most in apprehension.

I was too young that time to value her, But now I know her. If she be a traitor, Why, so am I. We still have slept together, Rose at an instant, learned, played, eat together, And wheresoe'er we went, like Juno's swans, Still we went coupled and inseparable.

Travelers must be content.

Now the melancholy God protect thee, and the tailor make thy garments of changeable taffeta, for thy mind is opal.

Their manners are more gentle, kind, than of Our human generation you shall find.

I scorn you, scurvy companion.