Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?
My pride fell with my fortunes.
A man in all the world's new fashion planted, That hath a mint of phrases in his brain.
My age is as a lusty winter, frosty but kindly.
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.
Murder most foul, as in the best it it; But this most foul, strange, and unnatural.