We few. We happy few. We band of brothers, for he today That sheds his blood with me Shall be my brother.
O braggart vile and damned furious wight!
Sick in the world's regard, wretched and low.
Neither a borrower nor a lender be, for loan oft loses both itself and friend, and borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.
There was a star danced, and under that was I born.
This making of Christians will raise the price of hogs.