Come, come, you wasp, i'faith, you are too angry.
If I be waspish, best beware my sting.
My remedy is then to pluck it out.
Ay, if the fool could find it where it lies.
Who knows not where a wasp does wear his sting?
In his tail.
In his tongue.
Whose tongue?
Yours, if you talk of tails, and so farewell.
What, with my tongue in your tail?