Act i. Sc. 3.
And, as the soldiers bore dead bodies by,
He called them untaught knaves, unmannerly,
To bring a slovenly, unhandsome corse
Betwixt the wind and his nobility.
Act i. Sc. 3.
By heaven, methinks it were an easy leap,
To pluck bright honor from the pale-faced moon.
Act ii. Sc. 1.
I know a trick worth two of that.
Act ii. Sc. 4.
Call you that backing of your friends? a plague upon such backing!
Act ii. Sc. 4.
A plague of sighing and grief! it blows a man up like a bladder.