Ay, gentle Thurio, for you know that love Wilt creep in service where it cannot go.

I am an ass indeed; you may prove it by my long ears. I have served him from the hour of my nativity to this instant, and have nothing at his hands for my service but blows. When I am cold, he heats me with beating; when I am warm, he cools me with beating.

Master, go on, and I will follow thee To the last gasp with truth and loyalty.

We cannot all be masters, nor all masters Cannot be truly followed.

My heart is ever at your service, my lord.

O Cromwell, Cromwell, Had I but served my God with half the zeal I served my king, he would not in mine age Have left me naked to mine enemies.