There is a history in all men's lives.

Oh why rebuke you him that loves you so? / Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe.

But men may construe things after their fashion, Clean from the purpose of the things themselves.

Go, bid the soldiers shoot.

Well, honor is the subject of my story.

I had rather eleven died nobly for their country than one voluptuously surfeit out of action.

The prize of all too precious you.