Madam, you have bereft me of all words, Only my blood speaks to you in my veins.

Why are our bodies soft, and weak, and smooth But that our soft conditions and our hearts Should well agree with our external parts?

My business was great, and in such a case as mine a man may strain courtesy.

O God, I could be bound in a nutshell, and count myself a king of infinite space – were it not that I have bad dreams.

A heavy heart bears not a nimble tongue.

What is aught but as 'tis valued?

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; Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood, Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage; Then lend the eye a terrible aspect; . . . . Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide, Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit To his full height. On, on, you noblest English.