“Why dost thou use me thus? I know thee not.Kent: Fellow, I know thee.Oswald: What dost thou know me for?Kent: A knave, a rascal, an eater of broken meats; a base, proud, shallow, beggarly, three-suited, hundred-pound, filthy; worsted-stocking knave; a lily-livered, action-taking whoreson, glass-gazing, superserviceable, finical rogue; one-trunk-inheriting slave; one that wouldst be a bawd, in way of good service, and art nothing but the composition of a knave, beggar, coward, pander, and the son and heir of a mongrel bitch; one whom I will beat into clamorous whining, if thou denyest the least syllable of thy addition.”

“A knave; a rascal; an eater of broken meats; abase, proud, shallow, beggarly, three-suited,hundred-pound, filthy, worsted-stocking knave; alily-livered, action-taking knave, a whoreson,glass-gazing, super-serviceable finical rogue;one-trunk-inheriting slave; one that wouldst be abawd, in way of good service, and art nothing butthe composition of a knave, beggar, coward, pandar,and the son and heir of a mongrel bitch: one whom Iwill beat into clamorous whining, if thou deniestthe least syllable of thy addition.”

“Death Be Not ProudDeath, be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;For those, whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow,Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.From rest and sleep, which but thy picture[s] be,Much pleasure, then from thee much more must flow,And soonest our best men with thee do go,Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.Thou'rt slave to Fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,And poppy, or charms can make us sleep as well,And better than thy stroke ; why swell'st thou then?One short sleep past, we wake eternally,And Death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.”

“This is in thee a nature but infected;A poor unmanly melancholy sprungFrom change of fortune. Why this spade? this place?This slave-like habit? and these looks of care?Thy flatterers yet wear silk, drink wine, lie soft;Hug their diseased perfumes, and have forgotThat ever Timon was. Shame not these woods,By putting on the cunning of a carper.Be thou a flatterer now, and seek to thriveBy that which has undone thee: hinge thy knee,And let his very breath, whom thou'lt observe,Blow off thy cap; praise his most vicious strain,And call it excellent: thou wast told thus;Thou gavest thine ears like tapsters that bid welcomeTo knaves and all approachers: 'tis most justThat thou turn rascal; hadst thou wealth again,Rascals should have 't. Do not assume my likeness.”

“Every morning I offer my body, my mind and any ability that I posses, to be used by Thee, O infinite creator, in whatever way Thou dost choose to express Thyself through me. I know that all work is Thy work, and that no task is too difficult or too menial when offered to Thee in loving service.”

“Dost thou not suspect my place? Dost thou not suspect my years? O that he were here to write me down an ass! But masters, remember that I am an ass. Though it be not written down, yet forget not that I am an ass. No, thou villain, thou art full of piety, as shall be proved upon thee by good witness. I am a wise fellow, and which is more, an officer, and which is more, a householder, and which is more, as pretty a piece of flesh as any is in Messina, and one that knows the law, go to . . . and one that hath two gowns, and everything handsome about him. Bring him away. O that I had been writ down an ass!”