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.

Yield not thy neck To fortunes yoke, but let thy dauntless mind Still ride in triumph over all mischance.

O, she misused me past the endurance of a block.

The lowest ebb is the turn of the tide. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow We are such stuff as dreams are made of.

There is special providence in the fall of a sparrow.

So. Lie there, my art.

He that hath a beard is more than a youth, and he that hath no beard is less than a man. He that is more than a youth is not for me, and he that is less than a man, I am not for him.