Oh, I Am Fortune's Fool!

Light Boats Sail Swift, Though Greater Hulks Draw Deep.

But, Indeed, Words Are Very Rascals, Since Bonds [vows] Disgraced Them." Viola: "thy Reason, Man?" Feste: "troth [truthfully], Sir, I Can Yield You None Without Words, And Words Are Grown So False, I Am Loathe To Prove Reason With Them.

How Low Am I, Thou Painted Maypole?

I Would Give All Of My Fame For A Pot Of Ale And Safety.

Making Night Hideous.