Thou whoreson, senseless villain!

It is the mind that makes the body rich; and as the sun breaks through the darkest clouds, so honor peereth in the meanest habit.

Show me a mistress that is passing fair, what doth her beauty serve but as a note where I may read who pass'd that passing fair?

God's will! my liege, would you and I alone, Without more help, could fight this royal battle!

QUINCE Francis Flute, the bellows-mender. FLUTE Here, Peter Quince. QUINCE Flute, you must take Thisby on you. FLUTE What is Thisby? a wandering knight? QUINCE It is the lady that Pyramus must love. FLUTE Nay, faith, let me not play a woman; I have a beard coming.

Well, if Fortune be a woman, she's a good wench for this gear.

Man, proud man, Drest in a little brief authority, Most ignorant of what he's most assured.