Like Patience Gazing On Kings'

A Little Fire Is Quickly Trodden Out, Which, Being Suffer'd, Rivers Cannot Quench.

I Will Be Free, Even To The Uttermost, As I Please, In Words.

What's His Offense? Groping For Trout In A Peculiar River.

The Bay-trees In Our Country Are All Withered, And Meteors Fright The Fixèd Stars Of Heaven. The Pale-faced Moon Looks Bloody On The Earth, And Lean-looked Prophets Whisper Fearful Change. Rich Men Look Sad, And Ruffians Dance And Leap; The One In Fear To Lose What They Enjoy, The Other To Enjoy By Rage And War. These Signs Forerun The Death Or Fall Of Kings.

Ha. "against My Will I Am Sent To Bid You Come Into Dinner." There's A Double Meaning In That. -benedick (much Ado)