When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions.

Scratching could not make it worse, an't were such a face as yours were.

I am not mad; I would to heaven I were! For then, 'tis like I should forget myself; O, if I could, what grief should I forget!

Fare thee well, king: sith thus thou wilt appear, Freedom lives hence, and banishment is here.

A very scurvy fellow.

Britain is A world by itself, and we will nothing pay For wearing our own noses.

Being of no power to make his wishes good: His promises fly so beyond his state That what he speaks is all in debt; he owes For every word.