In maiden meditation, fancy free.

Of all the flowers, me thinks a rose is best.

Now, God be praised, that to believing souls gives light in darkness, comfort in despair.

When rich villains have need of poor ones, poor ones may make what price they will

Olivia: What's a drunken man like, fool? Feste: Like a drowned man, a fool, and a madman: one draught above heat makes him a fool; the second mads him; and a third drowns him.

You see me here, you gods, a poor old man, As full of grief as age; wretched in both.

How every fool can play upon the word!