GLOUCESTER: I do not know that Englishman alive With whom my soul is any jot at odds, More than the infant that is born to-night: I thank my God for my humility.

If one good deed in all my life I did, I do repent it from my very soul.

A violet in the youth of primy nature, Forward, not permanent--sweet, not lasting; The perfume and suppliance of a minute; No more.

You lack the season of all natures, sleep.

Of one that lov'd not wisely but too well.

All pity choked with custom of fell deeds.

The very substance of the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream.