"Falstaff: My king! my Jove! I speak to thee, my heart! King Henry V: I know thee not, old man: fall to thy prayers; How ill white hairs become a fool, and jester!"

"Under which king, Bezonian? speak, or die!"

"A foutra for the world, and worldlings base! I speak of Africa, and golden joys."

"Falstaff: What wind blew you hither, Pistol? Pistol: Not the ill wind which blows no man to good."

"His cares are now all ended."

"A joint of mutton, and any pretty little tiny kick-shaws, tell William cook."

"Commit The oldest sins the newest kind of ways."

"Thy wish was father, Harry, to that thought."

"He hath a tear for pity, and a hand Open as day, for melting charity."

"I may justly say, with the hook-nosed fellow of Rome, — "I came, saw, and overcame.""

"We are ready to try our fortunes To the last man."

"I do remember him at Clement's-inn, like a man made after supper of a cheese-paring: when he was naked, he was, for all the world, like a forked radish, with a head fantastically carved upon it with a knife."

"A man can die but once; — we owe God a death."

"We have heard the chimes at midnight."

"Let that suffice, most forcible Feeble."

"I’ll purge, and leave sack, and live cleanly."

"Lord, Lord, how this world is given to lying! I grant you, I was down and out of breath; and so was he: but we rose both at an instant, and fought a long hour by Shrewsbury clock."

"Full bravely hast thou flesh'd Thy maiden sword."

"The better part of valour is discretion; in the which better part I have saved my life."

"I could have better spar'd a better man."

"Thy ignominy sleep with thee in the grave, But not remember’d in thy epitaph!"

"This earth, that bears thee dead, Bears not alive so stout a gentleman."

"O, Harry, thou hast robb'd me of my youth!"

"Two stars keep not their motion in one sphere."

"An if we live, we live to tread on kings; If die, brave death, when princes die with us!"

"Falstaff: I would it were bed-time, Hal, and all well. Prince Henry: Why, thou owest God a death. [Exit.] Falstaff: 'Tis not due yet: I would be loth to pay him before his day. What need I be so forward with him that calls not on me? Well, 'tis no matter; Honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if Honour prick me off when I come on? how then? Can Honour set to a leg? No. Or an arm? No. Or take away the grief of a wound? No. Honour hath no skill in surgery then? No. What is Honour? a word. What is that word, Honour? Air. A trim reckoning! — Who hath it? He that died o' Wednesday. Doth he feel it? No. Doth he hear it? No. Is it sensible then? Yes, to the dead. But will it not live with the living? No. Why? Detraction will not suffer it: therefore I'll none of it. Honour is a mere 'scutcheon, and so ends my catechism."

"For nothing can seem foul to those that win."

"To the latter end of a fray, and the beginning of a feast, Fits a dull fighter, and a keen guest."

"A mad fellow met me on the way, and told me I had unloaded all the gibbets, and pressed the dead bodies. No eye hath seen such scare-crows. I’ll not march through Coventry with them, that’s flat: nay, and the villains march wide betwixt the legs, as if they had gyves on; for, indeed, I had the most of them out of prison. There’s but a shirt and a half in all my company; and the half-shirt is two napkins, tacked together, and thrown over the shoulders like an herald’s coat without sleeves."

"Food for powder, food for powder; they’ll fill a pit, as well as better."

"Accommodated; that is, when a man is, as they say, accommodated: or when a man is, — being, — whereby, — he may be thought to be accommodated; which is an excellent thing."

"From Rumour's tongues They bring smooth comforts false, worse than true wrongs."

"Even such a man, so faint, so spiritless, So dull, so dead in look, so woe-begone, Drew Priam’s curtain in the dead of night, And would have told him, half his Troy was burn'd."

"Yet the first bringer of unwelcome news Hath but a losing office, and his tongue Sounds ever after as a sullen bell, Remember’d tolling a departing friend."

"Let Heaven kiss earth! Now let not nature's hand Keep the wild flood confin'd! let order die! And let this world no longer be a stage, To feed contention in a lingering act."

"You cast the event of war, my noble lord, And summ'd the account of chance, before you said "Let us make head." It was your presurmise, That, in the dole of blows, your son might drop: You knew he walk'd o'er perils, on an edge, More likely to fall in than to get o'er; You were advised his flesh was capable Of wounds and scars and that his forward spirit Would lift him where most trade of danger ranged: Yet did you say "Go forth;" and none of this, Though strongly apprehended, could restrain The stiff-borne action: what hath then befallen, Or what hath this bold enterprise brought forth, More than that being which was like to be?"

"I am not only witty in myself, but the cause that wit is in other men."

"A rascally yea-forsooth knave!"

"Some smack of age in you, some relish of the saltness of time."

"Since all is well, keep it so: wake not a sleeping wolf."

"We that are in the vaward of our youth."

"For my voice, — I have lost it with hollaing, and singing of anthems."

"It was always yet the trick of our English nation, if they have a good thing, to make it too common."

"I were better to be eaten to death with a rust, than to be scoured to nothing with perpetual motion."

"If I do, fillip me with a three-man beetle."

"A good wit will make use of anything; I will turn diseases to commodity."

"This England never did, nor never shall, Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror, But when it first did help to wound itself. Now these her princes are come home again, Come the three corners of the world in arms, And we shall shock them. Nought shall make us rue, If England to itself do rest but true."

"The worst Lord of thy presence, and no land beside."

"And if his name be George, I'll call him Peter; For new-made honour doth forget men's names."

"For he is but a bastard to the time, That doth not smack of observation."