He that dies pays all debts.
I cannot tell what the dickens his name is.
Time, whose millioned accidents creep in betwixt vows, and change decrees of kings, tan sacred beauty, blunt the sharpest intents, divert strong minds to the course of altering things.
He that is truly dedicated to war hath no self-love
I was adored once too.
Tis but a base, ignoble mind That mounts no higher than a bird can soar.