His neigh is like the bidding of a monarch, and his countenance enforces homage. He is indeed a horse.
Sometimes we are devils to ourselves When we will tempt the frailty of our powers, Presuming on their changeful potency.
When I was at home I was in a better place
This making of Christians will raise the price of hogs.
Self-love, my liege, is not so vile a sin, as self-neglecting.
I'll break my staff, bury it certain fathoms in the earth, and deeper than did ever plummet sound, I'll drown my book!