The force of his own merit makes his way-a gift that heaven gives for him.
Your lordship, though not clean past your youth, have yet some smack of age in you, some relish of the saltiness of time.
Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return to plague the inventor.
Never, never, never, never, never! Pray you, undo this button.
Cursed be he that moves my bones.
My lord, they say five moons were seen to-night-- Four fixed, and the fifth did whirl about The other four in wondrous motion.