A Kind Of Excellent Dumb Discourse.

Take You Me For A Sponge?

God Defend Me From That Welsh Fairy, Lest He Transform Me To A Piece Of Cheese!

The Tartness Of His Face Sours Ripe Grapes.

How Many Ages Hence Shall This Our Lofty Scene Be Acted Over In States Unborn And Accents Yet Unknown!

But Till All Graces Be In One Woman, One Woman Shall Not Come In My Grace. Rich She Shall Be, That's Certain; Wise, Or I'll None; Virtuous, Or I'll Never Cheapen Her; Fair, Or I'll Never Look On Her; Mild, Or Come Not Near Me; Noble, Or Not I For An Angel; Of Good Discourse, And Excellent Musician And Her Hair Shall Be Of What Colour It Shall Please God.