That which in mean men we entitle patience is pale cold cowardice in noble breasts.

He hath eaten me out of house and home.

I thank God I am as honest as any man living that is an old man and no honester than I.

They are fairies; he that speaks to them shall die. I'll wink and couch; no man their works must eye.

Yet this my comfort: when your words are done, My woes end likewise with the evening sun.

Thus play I in one person many people, And none contented: sometimes am I king; Then treasons make me wish myself a beggar, And so I am: then crushing penury Persuades me I was better when a king; Then am I king'd again: and by and by Think that I am unking'd by Bolingbroke, And straight am nothing: but whate'er I be, Nor I nor any man that but man is With nothing shall be pleased, till he be eased With being nothing.

O Lord that lends me life, Lend me a heart replete with thankfulness!