Brassbound [haughtily]: My men, madam, are not children in the nursery.
Lady Cicely [with unanswerable conviction]: Captain Brassbound, all men are children in the nursery. I see that you don't notice things. That poor Italian had only one proper bootlace, the other was a bit of string. And I am sure from Mr. Drinkwater's complexion that he ought to have some medicine.
Sylock: Go with me to a notary, seal me there
Your single bond; and, in a merry sport,
If you repay me not on such a day,
In such a place, such sum or sums as are
Express’d in the condition, let the forfeit
Be nominated for an equal pound
Of your fair flesh, to be cut off and taken
In what part of your body pleaseth me.
Hamlet: It is but foolery; but it is such a kind of gain-giving, as would perhaps trouble a woman.