I was a coward on instinct.
Oppose not rage while rage is in its force, but give it way a while and let it waste.
Speak on, but be not over-tedious.
Blow, blow, thou winter wind Thou art not so unkind, As man's ingratitude.
An old black ram is tupping your white ewe
I will be treble-sinewed, hearted, breathed, And fight maliciously; for when mine hours Were nice and lucky, men did ransom lives Of me for jests; but now I'll set my teeth And send to darkness all that stop me.