Twelfth Night, or What You Will
I will drop in his way some obscure epistles of
A sentence is
but a cheveril glove to a good wit: how quickly the
wrong side may be turned outward! (3.1.3)
Nay, that's certain; they that dally nicely with
words may quickly make them wanton.
I would, therefore, my sister had had no name, sir.
Why, sir, her name's a word; and to dally with that
word might make my sister wanton. But indeed words
are very rascals since bonds disgraced them. (3.1.4)