We few. We happy few. We band of brothers, for he today That sheds his blood with me Shall be my brother.
When most I wink, then do my eyes best see
O, she misused me past the endurance of a block.
Is it not strange, that sheep's guts should hale souls out of men's bodies!
Care keeps his watch in every old manโs eye, And where care lodges, sleep will never lie.
I hate ingratitude more in a man than lying, vainness, babbling, drunkenness, or any taint of vice whose strong corruption inhabits our frail blood".