He's mad that trusts in the tameness of a wolf.

Eternity was in our lips and eyes.

I thought my heart had been wounded with the claws of a lion.

An honest man, sir, is able to speak for himself, when a knave is not.

It is the cowish terror of his spirit that dares not undertake; he'll not feel wrongs which tie him to an answer.

Now, my masters, happy man be his dole, say I; every man to his business.

Fie, fie, how frantically I square my talk!