I can see he's not in your good books,' said the messenger. 'No, and if he were I would burn my library.
What's the newest grief? Each minute tunes a new one.
He was ever precise in promise-keeping.
My only love sprung from my only hate.
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.
What? do I love her, that I desire to hear her speak again, and feast upon her eyes