What Our Contempts Do Often Hurl From

New Customs, Though They Be Never So Ridiculous (nay, Let Em Be Unmanly), Yet Are Followed.

King Henry: But What A Point, My Lord, Your Falcon Made, And What A Pitch She Flew Above The Rest! To See How God In All His Creatures Works! Yea, Man And Birds Are Fain Of Climbing High. Suffolk: No Marvel, An It Like Your Majesty, My Lord Protectors Hawks Do Tower So Well; They Know Their Masters Loves To Be Aloft, And Bears His Thoughts Above His Falcon's Pitch. Gloucester: My Lord, 'tis But A Base Ignoble Mind That Mounts No Higher Than A Bird Can Soar.

Lend Less Than You Owe.

As I Love The Name Of Honour More Than I Fear Death.

True, I Talk Of Dreams, Which Are The Children Of An Idle Brain, Begot Of Nothing But Vain Fantasy.