Hail, many-colour’d messenger, that ne'er Dost disobey the wife of Jupiter; Who with thy saffron wings upon my flowers Diffusest honey-drops, refreshing showers, And with each end of thy blue bow dost crown My bosky acres and my unshrubb’d down, Rich scarf to my proud earth;

Being a social climber was more of a time burglar than having a ghost twin sister.

"She came to us snappish and suspicious, but when she found what sort of place ours was, it all went off by degrees.

But fettle your fine joints 'gainst Thursday next...