Ambition Should Be Made Of Sterner Stuff.

Oh, I Am Fortune's Fool!

Most Dear Actors, Eat No Onions Nor Garlic, For We Are To Utter Sweet Breath.

There Is No More Mercy In Him Than There Is Milk In A Male Tiger.

I Sat Upon A Promontory, And Heard A Mermaid, On A Dolphin's Back, Uttering Such Dulcet And Harmonious Breath, That The Rude Sea Grew Civil At Her Song; And Certain Stars Shot Madly From Their Spheres, To Hear The Sea-maid's Music.

Cheerily To Sea; The Signs Of War Advance: No King Of England, If Not King Of France