Call Me What Instrument You Will, Though

Were't Not For Laughing, I Should Pity Him.

I May Chance Have Some Odd Quirks And Remnants Of Wit Broken On Me, Because I Have Railed So Long Against Marriage: But Doth Not The Appetite Alter? A Man Loves The Meat In His Youth That He Cannot Endure In His Age. Shall Quips And Sentences And These Paper Bullets Of The Brain Awe A Man From The Career Of His Humour? No, The World Must Be Peopled. When I Said I Would Die A Bachelor, I Did Not Think I Should Live Till I Were Married.

Her Virtues, Graced With External Gifts, Do Breed Love's Settled Passions In My Heart; And Like As Rigour Of Tempestuous Gusts Provokes The Mightiest Hulk Against The Tide, So Am I Driven By Breath Of Her Renown Either To Suffer Shipwreck Or Arrive Where I May Have Fruition Of Her Love.

You Dull Ass Will Not Mend His Pace With Beating.

O, Then I See Queen Mab Hath Been With You. . . . She Is The Fairies’ Midwife, And She Comes In Shape No Bigger Than An Agate Stone On The Forefinger Of An Alderman, Drawn With A Team Of Little Atomi Athwart Men’s Noses As They Lie Asleep.