Who could refrain, that had a heart to love, and in that heart courage to make’s love known?
Though she be but little, she is fierce.
The blood more stirs to rouse a lion than to start a hare!
That’s a valiant flea that dare eat his breakfast on the lip of a lion.
Patience is pale cold cowardice in noble breasts.
Our doubts are traitors, and make us lose the good we oft might win, by fearing to attempt.
In a false quarrel there is no true valor.
Cowards die many times before their deaths; the valiant never taste of death but once.
Boldness be my friend!
As he was valiant, I honor him; but, as he was ambitious, I slew him.
