The Robbed That Smiles, Steals Something From

All Impediments In Fancy's Course Are Motives Of More Fancy.

I Hold My Peace, Sir? No; No, I Will Speak As Liberal As The North; Let Heaven And Men And Devils, Let Them All, All, All, Cry Shame Against Me, Yet I'll Speak.

I'll Break My Staff, Bury It Certain Fathoms In The Earth, And Deeper Than Did Ever Plummet Sound, I'll Drown My Book!

Though Now This Grained Face Of Mine Be Hid In Sap-consuming Winter's Drizzled Snow, And All The Conduits Of My Blood Froze Up, Yet Hath My Night Of Life Some Memory, My Wasting Lamps Some Fading Glimmer Left, My Dull Deaf Ears A Little Use To Hear.

Macduff: What Three Things Does Drink Especially Provoke? Porter: Marry, Sir, Nose-painting, Sleep, And Urine.