Lady, with me, with me thy fortune lies.
Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand?
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May.
Truth is truth to the end of reckoning.
Yes, faith; it is my cousin's duty to make curtsy and say 'Father, as it please you.' But yet for all that, cousin, let him be a handsome fellow, or else make another curtsy and say 'Father, as it please me.
I am not yet of Percy's mind, the Hotspur of the North; he that kills me some six or seven dozen of Scots as a breakfast, washes his hands, and says to his wife, 'Fie upon this quiet life! I want work.