The tongues of dying men enforce attention like deep harmony.
Ingratitude is monstrous.
Thou shouldst not have been old till thou hadst been wise.
You may my Glories and my State depose, But not my Griefes; still am I King of those.
Tears water our growth.
Alas, sir, how fell you besides your five wits?" Malvolio: "Fool, there was never a man so notoriously abused. I am as well in my wits, fool, as thou art." Feste: "But as well? Then you are mad indeed, if you be no better in you wits than a fool.