Of all matches never was the like.
Mind your speech a little lest you should mar your fortunes.
Though I am not naturally honest, I am sometimes so by chance.
Opinion's but a fool, that makes us scan the outward habit by the inward man.
If I be waspish, best beware my sting.
My love to thee is sound, sans crack or flaw.
I know not by what power I'm made bold.
The matter of the breath of the poor weighs upon Shakespeare and his characters. Cleopatra shudders at the thought that mechanic slaves, With greasy aprons, rules and hammers, shall Uplift us to the view; in their thick breaths Rank of gross diet, shall we be enclouded, And forced to drink their vapor.
Then I defy you, stars!