184 
SHAKESPEARE’S GARDEN 
Laf. O, will you eat no grapes, my royal fox ? 
Yes, but you will my noble grapes, an if 
My royal fox could reach them. 
II. i. 73 . 
Clo. As fit as ten groats is for the hand of an attorney, as 
your French crown for your taffeta punk, as Tib’s rush for 
Tom’s forefinger. 
II. ii. 22. 
Laf. There’s one grape yet. 
II. iii. 105. 
Laf. Go to, sir; you were beaten in Italy for picking a 
kernel out of a pomegranate. 
II. iii. 275. 
Fare you well, my lord ; and believe this of me, there can 
be no kernel in this light nut. 
II. v. 46. 
Dia. Ay, so you serve us, 
Till we serve you; but when you have our roses 
You barely leave our thorns to prick ourselves 
And mock us with our bareness. 
IV. ii. 16. 
Hel. Yet, I pray you : 
But, with the word, the time will bring on summer, 
When briers shall have leaves as well as thorns, 
And be as sweet as sharp. 
IV. iv. 30. 
Laf. No, no, no, your son was misled with a snipt-taffeta 
fellow there, whose villanous saffron would have made all 
the unbaked and doughy youth of a nation in his colour. 
IV. v. 1. 
Laf. ’Twas a good lady, ’twas a good lady : we may pick a 
thousand salads ere we light on such another herb. 
Clo. Indeed, sir, she was the sweet-marjoram of the salad, 
or rather, the herb of grace. 
Laf. They are not herbs, you knave; they are nose- 
herbs. 
Clo. I am no great Nebuchadnezzar, sir: I have not much 
skill in grass. 
IV. v. 14. 
Laf. Mine eyes smell onions ; I shall weep anon. 
V. iii. 321. 
