Lay on, McDuff, and be damned he who first cries, 'Hold, enough!

He that is proud eats up himself: pride is his own glass, his own trumpet, his own chronicle.

Thou art the Mars of malcontents.

Mine honour is my life; both grow in one; Take honour from me, and my life is done.

Shall I never see a bachelor of three score again?

O, then, what graces in my love do dwell, that he hath turn'd a heaven unto hell

Do not, as some ungracious pastors do, Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven; Whilst, like a puff'd and reckless libertine, Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads And recks not his own read.