He reads much; He is a great observer and he looks Quite through the deeds of men: he loves no plays, As thou dost, Antony; he hears no music; Seldom he smiles, and smiles in such a sort As if he mock'd himself and scorn'd his spirit That could be moved to smile at any thing. Such men as he be never at heart's ease Whiles they behold a greater than themselves, And therefore are they very dangerous.

Take it in what sense thou wilt.

Ambition, the soldier's virtue, rather makes choice of loss, than gain which darkens him.

Thou frothy tickle-brained hedge-pig!

To be in anger is impiety, but who is man that is not angry?

Greatness, once fallen out with fortune, must fall out with men too.

For who so firm that cannot be seduced?