Tis ten to one this play can never please
All that are here. Some come to take their ease
And sleep an act or two; but those, we fear,
W' have frighted with our trumpets.

“Sofremos demasiado pelo pouco que nos falta e alegramo-nos pouco pelo muito que…”

“O thou dissembling cub! what wilt thou beWhen time hath sow'd a grizzle on thy …”

“Rumble thy bellyful! Spit, fire! spout, rain!Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire, are…”

“This story shall the good man teach his son;And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go…”