I may command where I adore.
To hold, as 't were, the mirror up to nature.
We cannot all be masters, nor all masters Cannot be truly followed.
That skull had a tongue in it, and could sing once: how the knave jowls it to the ground, as if it were Cain's jaw-bone, that did the first murder! It might be the pate of a politician, which this ass now o'er-reaches; one that would circumvent God, might it not?
Come, and take choice of all my library, And so beguile thy sorrow.
As flies to wanton boys, are we to the gods; they kill us for their sport.