That which in mean men we entitle patience is pale cold cowardice in noble breasts.
What is a man, if his chief good and market of his time be but to sleep and feed? a beast, no more. Sure he that made us with such large discourse, looking before and after, gave us not that capability and god-like reason to fust in us unused.
For they are yet ear-kissing arguments.
I have lov'd her ever since I saw her; and still I see her beautiful
They that have voice of lions and act of hares,--are they not monsters?
I can see he's not in your good books,' said the messenger. 'No, and if he were I would burn my library.