“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.”

“Why should you think that I should woo in scorn?Scorn and derision never come in tears:Look, when I vow, I weep; and vows so born, In their nativity all truth appears.How can these things in me seem scorn to you,Bearing the badge of faith, to prove them true?”

“Alas, sir, how fell you besides your five wits?"Malvolio: "Fool, there was never a man so notoriously abused. I am as well in my wits, fool, as thou art."Feste: "But as well? Then you are mad indeed, if you be no better in you wits than a fool.”

“Thou weigh'st thy words before thou givest them breath.”

“I am indeed not her fool, but her corrupter of words. (Act III, sc. I, 37-38)”

“So well thy words become thee as thy wounds,They smack of honor both.”

“Hide not thy poison with such sugar'd words”