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• And nothing can we call our own but death And that small model of the barren earth Which serves as paste and cover to our bones.
  For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground And tell sad stories of the death of kings....
• Thus far into the bowels of the land Have we marched on without impediment.
  -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), King Richard III -- Act v, Sc. 2...
• Warwick, peace, Proud setter up and puller down of kings!
  -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), King Henry VI -- Act iii, Sc. 3...
• Here I and sorrows sit; Here is my throne, bid kings come bow to it.
  -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), King John -- Act iii, Sc. 1...
• The king's name is a tower of strength. -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), King Richard III -- Act v, Sc.
  3...
• A horse! a horse! my kingdom for a horse! -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), King Richard III -- Act v, Sc.
  4...
• A thing devised by the enemy. -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), King Richard III -- Act v, Sc.
  3...
• Fires the proud tops of the eastern pines. -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), King Richard II -- Act iii, Sc.
  2...
• To leave this keen encounter of our wits. -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), King Richard III -- Act i, Sc.
  2...