Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own
He's a soldier; and for one to say a soldier lies, is stabbing.
His neigh is like the bidding of a monarch, and his countenance enforces homage. He is indeed a horse.
You have dancing shoes with nimble soles. I have a soul of lead.
You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things!
The undeserver may sleep when the man of action is called on.