Why, what is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and dust? And, live we how we can, yet die we must.
Fair thoughts and happy hours attend on you.
I am afeard there are few die well that die in battle, for how can they charitably dispose of anything when blood is their argument?
Young men's love then lies not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes.
I have touched the highest point of all my greatness.
Nature hath framed strange fellows in her time.