And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by, From this day to the ending of the world, But we in it shall be remembered- We few, we happy few, we band of brothers; For he to-day that sheds his blood with me Shall be my brother
My love's more richer than my tongue.
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
He that is thy friend indeed, he will help you in your need.
The attempt and not the deed confounds us.
The arms are fair, When the intent of bearing them is just.