And gentlemen in England now-a-bed Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here, And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.
Small things make base men proud.
Make use of time, let not advantage slip.
Company, villainous company, hath been the spoil of me.
By the pricking of my thumbs, Something wicked this way comes.
Who could refrain that had a heart to love and in that heart courage to make love known?