No, I will be the pattern of all patience; I will say nothing.
When griping grief the heart doth wound, and doleful dumps the mind opresses, then music, with her silver sound, with speedy help doth lend redress.
There's no better sign of a brave mind than a hard hand.
One whom the music of his own vain tongue doth ravish like enchanting harmony.
There is an old poor man,. . . . Oppress'd with two weak evils, age and hunger.
JAQUES: Rosalind is your love's name? ORLANDO: Yes, just. JAQUES: I do not like her name. ORLANDO: There was no thought of pleasing you when she was christened.