I Have Heard It Said There Is

Desperate Times Breed Desperate Measures

What Many Men Desire--that 'many' May Be Meant By The Fool Multitude That Choose By Show, Not Learning More Than The Fond Eye Doth Teach, Which Pries Not To Th' Interior, But Like The Martlet Builds In The Weather On The Outward Wall, Even In The Force And Road Of Casualty.

Petruchio: Come, Come, You Wasp; I' Faith, You Are Too Angry. Katherine: If I Be Waspish, Best Beware My Sting. Petruchio: My Remedy Is Then, To Pluck It Out. Katherine: Ay, If The Fool Could Find Where It Lies. Petruchio: Who Knows Not Where A Wasp Does Wear His Sting? In His Tail. Katherine: In His Tongue. Petruchio: Whose Tongue? Katherine: Yours, If You Talk Of Tails: And So Farewell. Petruchio: What, With My Tongue In Your Tail? Nay, Come Again, Good Kate; I Am A Gentleman.

Misery Makes Sport To Mock Itself.

Let Fame, That All Hunt After In Their Lives, Live Regist'red Upon Our Brazen Tombs And Then Grace Us In The Disgrace Of Death; When, Spite Of Cormorant Devouring Time, Th' Endeavor Of This Present Breath May Buy That Honor Which Shall Bate His Scythe's Keen Edge And Make Us Heirs Of All Eternity.