“Tush!Fear not, my lord, we will not stand to prate;Talkers are no good doers: be assuredWe come to use our hands and not our tongues.”

“Think you a little din can daunt mine ears?Have I not in my time heard lions roar?Have I not heard the sea, puffed up with winds,Rage like an angry boar chafed with sweat?Have I not heard great ordinance in the field,And Heaven's artillery thunder in the skies?Have I not in a pitched battle heardLoud 'larums, neighing steeds, and trumpets' clang?And do you tell me of a woman's tongue, That gives not half so great a blow to hearAs will a chestnut in a farmer's fire?Tush! tush! fear boys with bugs.Grumio: For he fears none.”

“Our doubts are traitors, and make us lose the good we oft might win, by fearing to attempt.”

“It is not, nor it cannot, come to good, But break, my heart, for I must hold my tongue.”

“Captain of our fairy band,Helena is here at hand,And the youth, mistook by me,Pleading for a lover's fee.Shall we their fond pageant see?Lord, what fools these mortals be!”

“What, with my tongue in your tail? nay, come again,Good Kate; I am a gentleman.”

“Sweet are the uses of adversity,Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous,Wears yet a precious jewel in his head;And this our life, exempt from public haunt,Find tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,Sermons in stones, and good in everything.”