Nay, I Am The Very Pink Of

If By Chance I Talk A Little Wild, Forgive Me; I Had It From My Father.

He Was A Man, Take Him For All In All, I Shall Not Look Upon His Like Again.

April ... Hath Put A Spirit Of Youth In Everything.

This Fellow Is Wise Enough To Play The Fool; And To Do That Well Craves A Kind Of Wit: He Must Observe Their Mood On Whom He Jests, The Quality Of Persons, And The Time, And, Like The Haggard, Check At Every Feather That Comes Before His Eye. This Is A Practise As Full Of Labour As A Wise Man's Art For Folly That He Wisely Shows Is Fit; But Wise Men, Folly-fall'n, Quite Taint Their Wit.

Contention, Like A Horse, Full Of High Feeding, Madly Hath Broke Loose, And Bears Down All Before Him.