Therefore, since brevity is the soul of wit,
And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes,
I will be brief.
Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me.
You would play upon me;
you would seem to know my stops;
you would pluck out the heart of my mystery;
you would sound me from my lowest note to the top of my compass;
and there is much music,
excellent voice, in this little organ, yet cannot you make it speak.
'Sblood, do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe?
Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me.
all quotations by the Bard.