God defend me from that Welsh fairy, Lest he transform me to a piece of cheese!

Thou call'st me dog before thou hadst a cause, But since I am a dog, beware my fangs.

Away, you mouldy rogue, away!

Go hang yourself, you naughty mocking uncle!

He is dead and gone, lady, He is dead and gone; At his head a grass-green turf, At his heels a stone.

Cry "havoc!" and let loose the dogs of war, That this foul deed shall smell above the earth With carrion men, groaning for burial.

It will have blood, they say; blood will have blood.