Tell them, that, to ease them of their griefs, Their fear of hostile strokes, their aches, losses, Their pangs of love, with other incident throes That nature's fragile vessel doth sustain In life's uncertain voyage, I will some kindness do them.

Small things make base men proud.

Love for thy love , and hand for hand I give.

In the modesty of fearful duty, I read as much as from the rattling tongue of saucy and audacious eloquence.

Who is here so vile that will not love his country?

The weariest and most loathed worldly life, that age, ache, penury and imprisonment can lay on nature is a paradise, to what we fear of death.

You speak an infinite deal of nothing.