Mine honour is my life; both grow in one; Take honour from me, and my life is done.
My language! heavens!I am the best of them that speak this speech. Were I but where 'tis spoken.
I am such a tender ass, if my hair do but tickle me, I must scratch.
We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day.
Simply the thing that I am shall make me live.
Come, gentlemen, I hope we shall drink down all unkindness.