That tears shall drown the wind. I have no spur To prick the sides of my intent, but only Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself And falls on th' other.

What, man, defy the devil. Consider, he's an enemy to mankind.

Blow blow thou winter wind Thou art not so unkind As mans ingratitude.

Journey's end in lovers meeting - Twelfth Night.

Some are born great, others achieve greatness.

These times of woe afford no time to woo.

My poor body, madam, requires it: I am driven on by the flesh; and he must needs go that the devil drives.