O, She Misused Me Past The Endurance

Gold Were As Good As Twenty Orators.

Thou Whoreson Zed! Thou Unnecessary Letter!

I Hate Ingratitude More In A Man Than Lying, Vainness, Babbling, Drunkenness, Or Any Taint Of Vice Whose Strong Corruption Inhabits Our Frail Blood".

But, Indeed, Words Are Very Rascals, Since Bonds [vows] Disgraced Them." Viola: "thy Reason, Man?" Feste: "troth [truthfully], Sir, I Can Yield You None Without Words, And Words Are Grown So False, I Am Loathe To Prove Reason With Them.

Say, What Abridgement Have You For This Evening? What Masque, What Music? How Shall We Beguile The Lazy Time If Not With Some Delight?