William Blake's father was a hosier.

So kindly keep the vainglorious enumeration of your pots for the benefit of those village idiots who compose your particular set of boozing companions.

I'll bring over some sandwiches to the school.

Byd. […] a good cheeke, an inticing eye, a smooth skinne, a well shapt leg, a faire hand, you cannot bring a wench into a fooles parradize for you? Sim. Not I by this garter, I am a foole, a very Ninny I, how call you her? how call you her?