Fit for the mountains and the barbarous caves, where manners ne'er were preached.
The world is grown so bad, That wrens make prey where eagles dare not perch.
In time the savage bull doth bear the yoke.
Into what dangers would you lead me, Cassius, That you would have me seek into myself For that which is not in me?
Modest doubt is called the beacon of the wise.
In a false quarrel there is no true valor.