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

Oh, I have passed a miserable night, so full of ugly sights, of ghastly dreams!

Thou know'st 'tis common; all that lives must die, Passing through nature to eternity.

There lives within the very flame of love A kind of wick or snuff that will abate it.

For I can raise no money by vile means. By heaven, I had rather coin my heart, And drop my blood for drachmas

What have we here? a man or a fish? dead or alive? A fish: he smells like a fish; a very ancient and fishlike smell; a kind of not of the newest poor-John. A strange fish!

You common cry of curs! whose breath I hate As reek o' the rotten fens, whose loves I prize As the dead carcasses of unburied men That do corrupt my air, I banish you; And here remain with your uncertainty!