I rather tell thee what is to be feared Than what I fear; for always I am Caesar.
Farewell? a long farewell to all my greatness. This is the state of man; today he puts forth The tender leaves of hopes, tomorrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honors thick upon him: The third day comes a frost, a killing frost, And when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a-ripening, nips his root, And then he falls as I do.
O, for a horse with wings!
Love's heralds should be thoughts, Which ten times faster glides than the sun's beams, Driving back shadows over low'ring hills.
O, you are sick of self-love, Malvolio, and taste with a distempered appetite.
I cannot flatter; I do defy The tongues of soothers, but a braver place In my heart's love hath no man than yourself.
Throw away respect, Tradition, form, and ceremonious duty, For you have but mistook me all this while. I live with bread like you, feel want, Taste grief, need friends.
After my death I wish no other herald, No other speaker of my living actions To keep mine honor from corruption, But such an honest chronicler as Griffith.
Heaven give you many, many merry days!
I am as vigilant as a cat to steal cream.