Twelfth Night

by William Shakespeare

Be you his eunuch and your mute I'll be; When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not see.

Capitan

I'll confine myself no finer than I am: these clothes are good enough to drink in, and so be these boots too;

Sir Toby

Better a witty fool than a foolish wit.—God

Clown

What is love? 'tis not hereafter; Present mirth hath present laughter; What's to come is still unsure. In delay there lies no plenty; Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty; Youth's a stuff will not endure.

Clown

A sentence is but a cheveril glove to a good wit. How quickly the wrong side may be turned outward!

Clown