Good Words Are Better Than

The Tartness Of His Face Sours Ripe Grapes.

Good Reasons Must Of Force Give Place To Better.

Romans, Countrymen, And Lovers, Hear Me For My Cause, And Be Silent, That You May Hear.

'sblood, You Starveling, You Elf-skin, You Dried Neat's Tongue, You Bull's Pizzle, You Stock-fish! O For Breath To Utter What Is Like Thee! You Tailor's-yard, You Sheath, You Bowcase; You Vile Standing-tuck!

Gnarling Sorrow Hath Less Power To Bite The Man That Mocks At It And Sets It Light.