Give me my robe, put on my crown; I have Immortal longings in me.
A hit, a very palpable hit.
Fill all thy bones with aches.
Thus hath the candle sing'd the moth. O these deliberate fools!
He that loves to be flattered is worthy o' the flatterer.
Who knows himself a braggart, Let him fear this; for it will come to pass That every braggart will be found an ass.