Out of my lean and low abilityI'll lend you something.

Yond' Cassius has a lean and hungry look; He thinks too much: such men are dangerous

A high hope for a low heaven.

How Low am I, thou painted Maypole? Speak:
How Low am I? I am not yet so Low
But that my Nails can reach unto thine Eyes

Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears; I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him. The evil that men do lives after them, The good is oft interred with their bones.

Speak low, if you speak love.