The aspiring youth that fired the Ephesian dome Outlives in fame the pious fool that rais'd it. - Colley Cibber

We shall find no fiend in hell can match the fury of a disappointed woman,—scorned, slighted, dismissed without a parting pang.

Old houses mended,
Cost little less than new before they're ended.

Perish that thought! No, never be it said
That Fate itself could awe the soul of Richard.
Hence, babbling dreams! you threaten here in vain!
Conscience, avaunt! Richard ’s himself again!
Hark! the shrill trumpet sounds to horse! away!
My soul ’s in arms, and eager for the fray.