While you live$$$ tell truth and shame the devil!

There lives not three good men unhanged in England$$$ and one of them is fat and grows old.

It would be argument for a week$$$ laughter for a month$$$ and a good jest for ever.

By heaven$$$ methinks it were an easy leap$$$
To pluck bright honour from the pale-faced moon$$$
Or dive into the bottom of the deep$$$
Where fathom-line could never touch the ground$$$
And pluck up drowned honour by the locks.

Yet herein will I imitate the sun$$$
Who doth permit the base contagious clouds
To smother up his beauty from the world.

Let us be Diana’s foresters$$$ gentlemen of the shade$$$ minions of the moon.

Thou art so fat-witted with drinking of old sack and unbuttoning thee after supper and sleeping upon benches in the afternoon$$$ that thou hast forgotten to demand that truly which thou wouldst truly know.

In those holy fields$$$
Over whose acres walked those blessed feet
Which fourteen hundred years ago were nailed
For our advantage on the bitter cross.

O$$$ for a muse of fire$$$ that would ascend
The brightest heaven of invention$$$
A kingdom for a stage$$$ princes to act
And monarchs to behold the swelling scene!

Those about her
From her shall read the perfect ways of honour.