Crack'd in pieces by malignant Death.
Thrift, thrift, Horatio! The funeral bak'd meats did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables.
Season your admiration for a while.
I will be correspondent to command, And do my spiriting gently.
Macduff: What three things does drink especially provoke? Porter: Marry, sir, nose-painting, sleep, and urine.
O, let my books be then the eloquence and dumb presages of my speaking breast.