Has his daughters brought him to this pass?—
Couldst thou save nothing?
My wits begin to turn.—
Come on, my boy. How dost, my boy? Art cold?
Blow winds, and crack your cheeks! Rage, blow!
You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout
Till you have drenched our steeples,
My dear lord,
You know the fiery quality of the Duke,
How unremovable and fixed he is
In his own course.
If a man’s brains were in ’s heels, were ’t not in
danger of kibes?
Nuncle, give me
an egg, and I’ll give thee two crowns.
What two crowns shall they be?
Fool, to Kent
Prithee tell him, so much the rent of his
land comes to.
Sirrah, I’ll teach thee a speech.
My masters, are you mad? Or what are you?
Have you no wit, manners, nor honesty but to
gabble like tinkers at this time of night?
I am out o’ friends, madam, and I hope to have
friends for my wife’s sake.
Frateretto calls me and tells me Nero is an
angler in the lake of darkness.
Sir Andrew Aguecheek
Excellent! Why, this is the best fooling when
all is done. Now, a song!
Sir Toby Belch,
Olivia, to Malvolio
Alas, poor fool, how have they baffled thee!
Why, “some are born great,
O, fellow, come, the song we had last night.—
Mark it, Cesario. It is old and plain;