VIOLA.
Art thou a churchman?
CLOWN. No such matter, sir: I do live by the church; for I do live at my house, and my house doth stand by the church.
VIOLA. So thou mayst say, the king lies by a beggar, if a beggar dwell near him; or the church stands by thy tabor, if thy tabor stand by the church.
CLOWN. You have said, sir. To see this age! A sentence is but a cheveril glove to a good wit; how quickly the wrong side may be turn'd outward!
VIOLA. Nay, that's certain; they that dally nicely with words may quickly make them wanton.
CLOWN.
I would, therefore, my sister had had no name, sir.
VIOLA.
Why, man?
CLOWN. Why, sir, her name's a word; and to dally with that word might make my sister wanton. But, indeed, words are very rascals since bonds disgrac'd them.
VIOLA.
Thy reason, man?
CLOWN. Troth, sir, I can yield you none without words; and words are grown so false, I am loth to prove reason with them.