These Cardinals Trifle With Me; I Abhor;

The Little Dogs And All, Tray, Blanch, And Sweetheart-see, They Bark At Me.

Why, I' Faith, Methinks She's Too Low For A High Praise, Too Brown For A Fair Praise And Too Little For A Great Praise: Only This Commendation I Can Afford Her, That Were She Other Than She Is, She Were Unhandsome; And Being No Other But As She Is, I Do Not Like Her. (benedick, From Much Ado About Nothing)

If Chance Will Have Me King, Why, Chance May Crown Me.

Et Tu Brute! (you Too, Brutus!)

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.