Some kinds of baseness are nobly undergone.

My father names me Autolycus, who being, as I am, littered under Mercury, was likewise a snapper-up of unconsidered trifles.

When I bestride him, I soar, I am a hawk: he trots the air; the earth sings when he touches it; the basest horn of his hoof is more musical than the pipe of Hermes.

Lawless are they that make their wills their law.

A plague on both your houses.

Give them great meals of beef and iron and steel, they will eat like wolves and fight like devils.

Scarce can I speak, my choler is so great. Oh! I could hew up rocks, and fight with flint.