Temperate I am, yet never       had a temper; Modest I am, yet with       some slight assurance; Changeable too, yet       somehow idem semper; Patient, but not       enamoured of endurance; Cheerful, but sometimes       rather apt to whimper; Mild, but at times a sort of       Hercules furens; So that I almost think that       the same skin For one withour has two or       three within.

- Byron (Canto XVII, stanza 11)