Thou Weedy Elf-skinned Canker-blossom!

Youth To Itself Rebels, Though None Else Near.

Now, Good Digestion Wait On Appetite, And Health On Both!

Tis An Ill Cook That Cannot Lick His Own Fingers.

And Oftentimes, To Win Us To Our Harm, The Instruments Of Darkness Tell Us Truths, Win Us With Honest Trifles, To Betray's In Deepest Consequence

Thou Dost Conspire Against Thy Friend, Iago, If Thou But Think'st Him Wronged, And Mak'st His Ear A Stranger To Thy Thoughts.