O, My Offence Is Rank, It Smells

Oh God! That One Might Read The Book Of Fate, And See The Revolution Of The Times Make Mountains Level, And The Continent, Weary Of Solid Firmness, Melt Itself Into The Sea.

'tis Better To Be Vile Than Vile Esteemed

The Cheek Is Apter Than The Tongue To Tell An Errand.

Speak The Speech, I Pray You, As I Pronounce It To You, Trippingly On The Tongue; But If You Mouth It, As Many Of Your Players Do, I Had As Lief The Town-crier Spoke My Lines.

How Much An Ill Word May Empoison Liking!