The day For whose returns, and many, all these pray; And so do I.
Let those that merely talk and never think, That live in the wild anarchy of drink
O! How vain and vile a passion is this fear! What base uncomely things it makes men do.
Well, as he brews, so shall he drink.
Weigh the meaning and look not at the words.
I remember, the players have often mentioned it as an honour to Shakespeare, that in his writing (whatsoever he penned) he never plotted out a line. My answer hath been, would he had blotted a thousand.