Like A Barber's Chair That Fits All

And All My Mother Came Into Mine Eyes And Gave Me Up To Tears.

Lords, Knights And Gentlemen, What I Should Say My Tears Gainsay; For Every Word I Speak, Ye See I Drink The Water Of My Eye.

Ambition, The Soldier's Virtue, Rather Makes Choice Of Loss, Than Gain Which Darkens Him.

You Have Dancing Shoes With Nimble Soles. I Have A Soul Of Lead.

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; Be He Ne’er So Vile, This Day Shall Gentle His Condition; 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.