I Do Know Of These

That Which In Mean Men We Entitle Patience Is Pale Cold Cowardice In Noble Breasts.

Every True Man's Apparel Fits Your Thief.

In Peace There's Nothing So Becomes A Man As Modest Stillness And Humility: But When The Blast Of War Blows In Our Ears, Then Imitate The Action Of The Tiger; Stiffen The Sinews, Summon Up The Blood, Disguise Fair Nature With Hard-favour'd Rage; Then Lend The Eye A Terrible Aspect; . . . . Now Set The Teeth And Stretch The Nostril Wide, Hold Hard The Breath And Bend Up Every Spirit To His Full Height. On, On, You Noblest English.

Methinks You Are My Glass, And Not My Brother: I See By You I Am A Sweet-faced Youth.

Alas, I Am A Woman Friendless, Hopeless!