Warpaint
Go, prick thy face, and over-red thy fear,
Thou lily-liver’d boy.
-Macbeth,
Act V, Scene iii

Go, prick thy face, and over-red thy fear,
Thou lily-liver’d boy.
-Macbeth,
Act V, Scene iii

Out, alas!
You’d be so lean, that blasts of January
Would blow you through and through.
-Winter’s Tale,
Act IV, Scene iv

Go forward and be choked with thy ambition!
-Henry VI Part 1,
Act II, Scene iv

You common cry of curs! whose breath I hate
As reek o’ the rotten fens, whose loves I prize
As the dead carcasses of unburied men
That do corrupt my air.
–Coriolanus,
Act III, Scene iii

And the tailor make thy doublet of changeable taffeta, for
thy mind is a very opal.
-Twelfth Night,
Act II, Scene iv

Peace, you mumbling fool!
Utter your gravity o’er a gossip’s bowl;
For here we need it not.
-Romeo and Juliet,
Act III, Scene v

As low as to thy heart,
Through the false passage of thy throat, thou liest.
–Richard II,
Act I, Scene i