Good Wombs Have Borne Bad Sons." --

He Hath A Heart As Sound As A Bell, And His Tongue Is The Clapper; For What His Heart Thinks His Tongue Speaks.

I Beseech You, Wrest Once The Law To Your Authority: To Do A Great Right, Do A Little Wrong.

The Language I Have Learnt These Forty Years, My Native English, Now I Must Forgo; And Now My Tongue's Use Is To Me No More Than An Unstringed Viol Or A Harp, Or Like A Cunning Instrument Cased Up Or, Being Open, Put Into His Hands That Knows No Touch To Tune The Harmony.

Drink Down All Unkindness.

Foul Whisp'rings Are Abroad.