But 'tis common proof, that lowliness is young ambition's ladder, whereto the climber-upward turns his face; but when he once attains the upmost round, he then turns his back, looks in the clouds, scorning the vase defrees by which he did ascend.

I have bought golden opinions from all sorts of people.

Did he so often lodge in open field, In winter's cold and summer's parching heat, To conquer France, his true inheritance?

My master hath been an honorable gentleman; tricks he hath had in him which gentlemen have.

I am not mad; I would to heaven I were! For then, 'tis like I should forget myself; O, if I could, what grief should I forget!

So shalt thou feed on Death, that feeds on men.

Things done well and with a care, exempt themselves from fear.