Tis but a base, ignoble mind That mounts no higher than a bird can soar.
Travelers never did lie, though fools at home condemn them.
I have touched the highest point of all my greatness.
Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather the multitudinous seas incarnadine, making the green one red.
Is he on his horse? O happy horse, to bear the weight of Antony!
Say as you think and speak it from your souls.