In peace there's nothing so becomes a man As modest stillness and humility: But when the blast of war blows in our ears, Then imitate the action of the tiger; Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood, Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage; Then lend the eye a terrible aspect; . . . . Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide, Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit To his full height. On, on, you noblest English.

Do not swear by the moon, for she changes constantly. Then your love would also change.

Thou art a Castilian King urinal!

Thy best of rest is sleep, And that thou oft provok'st; yet grossly fear'st Thy death, which is no more.

The hideous god of war.

That in the captains but a choleric word Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy.

Out of her favour, where I am in love.