True, I talk of dreams, Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy.

So are you to my thoughts as food to life, or as sweet seasoned showers are to the ground.

I do begin to have bloody thoughts.

Don Pedro - (...)'In time the savage bull doth bear the yoke.' Benedick - The savage bull may, but if ever the sensible Benedick bear it, pluck off the bull's horns and set them in my forehead, and let me be vildly painted; and in such great letters as they writes, 'Here is good horse for hire', let them signify under my sign, 'Here you may see Benedick the married man.

Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day And make me travel forth without my cloak, To let base clouds o'ertake me in my way, Hiding they brav'ry in their rotten smoke?

Report of fashions in proud Italy Whose manners still our tardy-apish nation Limps after in base imitation

Though patience be a tired mare, yet she will plod.