He was not so much brain as earwax
It hurts not the tongue to give fair words.
Keep time! How sour sweet music is when time is broke and no proportion kept! So is it in the music of men's lives. I wasted time and now doth time waste me.
Thou whoreson, senseless villain!
A little water clears us of this deed.
Discharge my followers; let them hence away, From Richard's night to Bolingbrooke's fair day.