Some that will evermore peep through their eyes, And laugh like Parrots at a bagpiper. The poison of the asp that Cleopatra used hath some affinity with it. Ira furor brevis , wrath is a short madness. They say, my Lords, Ira furor brevis est, But yond man is angry. For naught but provender, and when he's old casheer'd.
Experience is by industry achieved, And perfected by the swift course of time.
If that the earth could teem with woman's tears, Each drop she falls would prove a crocodile. This many summers in a sea of glory. For I will be thy beadsman, Valentine. Yet AEolus would not be a murderer. But I have taken pains more like the beast with four legs than like a man with scarce two legs.