And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by, From this day to the ending of the world, But we in it shall be remembered- We few, we happy few, we band of brothers; For he to-day that sheds his blood with me Shall be my brother

Ingratitude is monstrous.

What drink'st thou oft, instead of homage sweet, But poisoned flattery?

O, call back yesterday, bid time return

Appetite, a universal wolf.

Teach not thy lip such scorn, for it was made For kissing, lady, not for such contempt.

A very ancient and fish-like smell.