I have a bone to pick with Fate
Nothing routs us but the villainy of our fears.
Give me my robe, put on my crown; I have Immortal longings in me.
Sweet Beatrice, wouldst thou come when I called thee? BEATRICE Yea, signior, and depart when you bid me. BENEDICK O, stay but till then! BEATRICE 'Then' is spoken; fare you well now... (Much Ado About Nothing)
The past is prologue.
I am not of that feather, to shake off my friend when he must need me