A king of shreds and patches. Now might I drink hot blood . . . Nymph, in thy orisons be all my sins remembered. . . Tis bitter cold, and I am sick at heart. Nothing at all, yet all there is I see.
Brevity is the soul of wit. . . .
With mirth in funeral and with dirge in marriage . . . They say the owl was a baker's daughter. The time is out of joint. Questions on imagery with some examples analogous to those explicated on my imagery page.