Who to himself is law, no law doth need,

Offends no law, and is a king indeed.

GEORGE CHAPMAN, Bussy D' Ambois

For one heat, all know, doth drive out another,

One passion doth expel another still.

Give me a spirit that on this life's rough sea

Loves t'have his sails fill'd with a lusty wind,

Even till his sail-yards tremble, his masts creak,

And his rapt ship run on her side so low

That she drinks water, and her keel ploughs air.

GEORGE CHAPMAN, Byron's Conspiracy