Do as the heavens have done, forget your evil; With them forgive yourself.

Who knows himself a braggart, Let him fear this; for it will come to pass That every braggart will be found an ass.

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more; Or close the wall with our English dead.

She's beautiful, and therefore to be wooed; She is a woman, therefore to be won.

The coward dies a thousand deaths, the valiant, only once!

Come my spade. There is no ancient gentlemen but gardeners, ditchers, and grave-makers; they hold up Adam's profession.

My falcon now is sharp and passing empty, and till she stoop she must not be full-gorged, for then she never looks upon her lure.