Is There No Respect Of Place, Persons,

Men Judge By The Complexion Of The Sky The State And Inclination Of The Day.

Here Will Be An Old Abusing Of God's Patience And The King's English.

My Wits Begin To Turn.

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.

Ah Me, How Weak A Thing The Heart Of Woman Is!