A king of infinite space

[Thine] face is not worth sunburning.

He jests at scars that never felt a wound.

for Mercutio's soul Is but a little way above our heads, Staying for thine to keep him company: Either thou, or I, or both, must go with him.

The Dear father Would with his daughter speak, commands her service; Are they inform'd of this?

I am indeed, sir, a surgeon to old shoes; when they are in great danger I recover them.

I was born free as Caesar; so were you