What impossible matter will he [Gonzalo] make easy next? (II.i.)


You cram these words into mine ears against
The stomach of my sense. (II.i.)


My lord Sebastian,
The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness
And time to speak it in. You rub the sore
When you should bring the plaster. (II.i.) I’ th’ commonwealth I would by contraries
Execute all things, for no kind of traffic
Would I admit. No name of magistrate.
Letters should not be known. Riches, poverty,
And use of service—none. Contract, succession,
Bourn, bound of land, tilth, vineyard—none.
No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oil.
No occupation: all men idle, all.
And women too, but innocent and pure.
No sovereignty— (II.i.)