Romans, countrymen, and lovers, hear me for my cause, and be silent, that you may hear.

Adversity makes strange bedfellows.

The Play's the Thing, wherein I'll catch the conscience of the King.

Beshrew the heart that makes my heart to groan.

I despised my arrival on this earth and I despise my departure; it is a tragedy.

Come what sorrow can, It cannot countervail the exchange of joy, That one short minute gives me in her sight

King Henry: But what a point, my lord, your falcon made, And what a pitch she flew above the rest! To see how God in all his creatures works! Yea, man and birds are fain of climbing high. Suffolk: No marvel, an it like your majesty, My lord protectors hawks do tower so well; They know their masters loves to be aloft, And bears his thoughts above his falcon's pitch. Gloucester: My lord, 'tis but a base ignoble mind That mounts no higher than a bird can soar.