Sit by my side, and let the world slip: we shall ne'er be younger.

In thee thy mother dies, our household's name, My death's revenge, thy youth, and England's fame.

My crown is in my heart, not on my head; not decked with diamonds and Indian stones, nor to be seen: my crown is called content, a crown it is that seldom kings enjoy.

'Tis best to weigh the enemy more mighty than he seems.

We few. We happy few. We band of brothers, for he today That sheds his blood with me Shall be my brother.

O wretched state! o bosom black as death!

Cannot you tell that? Every fool can tell that. It was the very day that young Hamlet was born, he that is mad and sent into England." "Ay, marry, why was he sent into England?" "Why, because he was mad. He shall recover his wits there, or, if he do not, it's no great matter there." "Why?" "'Twill not be seen in him there. There the men are as mad as he.