Let None Presume To Wear An Undeserved

I Wonder That You Will Still Be Talking. Nobody Marks You.

Foul Fiend Of France And Hag Of All Despite, Encompassed With Thy Lustful Paramours, Becomes It Thee To Taunt His Valiant Age And Twit With Cowardice A Man Half Dead?

'sblood, You Starveling, You Elf-skin, You Dried Neat's Tongue, You Bull's Pizzle, You Stock-fish! O For Breath To Utter What Is Like Thee! You Tailor's-yard, You Sheath, You Bowcase; You Vile Standing-tuck!

Teeth Hadst Thou In Thy Head When Thou Wast Born, To Signify Thou Camest To Bite The World.

It Is A Tale Told By An Idiot, Full Of Sound And Fury; Signifying Nothing.