King Henry: But what a point, my lord, your falcon made, And what a pitch she flew above the rest! To see how God in all his creatures works! Yea, man and birds are fain of climbing high. Suffolk: No marvel, an it like your majesty, My lord protectors hawks do tower so well; They know their masters loves to be aloft, And bears his thoughts above his falcon's pitch. Gloucester: My lord, 'tis but a base ignoble mind That mounts no higher than a bird can soar.

I have heard of your paintings too, well enough; God has given you one face, and you make yourselves another.

Now the melancholy God protect thee, and the tailor make thy garments of changeable taffeta, for thy mind is opal.

For who so firm that cannot be seduced?

O polished perturbation! golden care! That keep'st the ports of slumber open wide To many a watchful night.

The ides of March are come. Soothsayer: Ay, Caesar; but not gone.

I had rather be a toad, and live upon the vapor of a dungeon than keep a corner in the thing I love for others uses.