A Rotten Case Abides No Handling.

All's Well If All Ends Well.

My Language! Heavens!i Am The Best Of Them That Speak This Speech. Were I But Where 'tis Spoken.

Do You Take Me For A Sponge, My Lord? Hamlet: Ay, Sir; That Soaks Up The King's Countenance, His Rewards, His Authorities. But Such Officers Do The King Best Service In The End: He Keeps Them, Like An Ape, In The Corner Of His Jaw; First Mouthed, To Be Last Swallowed: When He Needs What You Have Gleaned, It Is But Squeezing You, And, Sponge, You Shall Be Dry Again. Rosencrantz: I Understand You Not, My Lord. Hamlet: I Am Glad Of It: A Knavish Speech Sleeps In A Foolish Ear.

Travelers Must Be Content.

Speak, What Trade Art Thou? Why, Sir, A Carpenter. Where Is Thy Leather Apron And Thy Rule? What Does Thou With Thy Best Apparel On?