Nothing in his life became him like leaving it.

Here is a rural fellow that will not be denied your Highness' presence: he brings you figs.

You dull ass will not mend his pace with beating.

O God of battles! steel my soldiers’ hearts. Possess them not with fear.

I have touch'd the highest point of all my greatness, And from that full meridian of my glory I haste now to my setting.

'Tis brief, my lord...as woman's love.

Tears water our growth.