Adversity makes strange bedfellows.
That affable familiar ghost Which nightly gulls him with intelligence.
But men may construe things after their fashion, Clean from the purpose of the things themselves.
Ambition, the soldier's virtue.
You are a lover. Borrow Cupid's wings and soar with them above a common bound.
When we our betters see bearing our woes, We scarcely think our miseries our foes.