I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon, Than such a Roman.
Are you up to your destiny?
Love is not love that alters when it alteration finds.
This feather stirs; she lives! if it be so, it is a chance which does redeem all sorrows that ever I have felt.
Travelers never did lie, though fools at home condemn them.
This sanguine coward, this bed-presser, this horseback-breaker, this huge hill of flesh!