Put a tongue

In every wound of Caesar that should move

The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Julius Caesar. Act iii. Sc. 2.

Full little knowest thou that hast not tride,

What hell it is in suing long to bide:

To loose good dayes, that might be better spent;

To wast long nights in pensive discontent;

To speed to-day, to be put back to-morrow;

To feed on hope, to pine with feare and sorrow.

  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .

To fret thy soule with crosses and with cares;

To eate thy heart through comfortlesse dispaires;

To fawne, to crowche, to waite, to ride, to ronne,

To spend, to give, to want, to be undonne.

Unhappie wight, borne to desastrous end,

That doth his life in so long tendance spend!

Edmund Spenser (1553-1599): Mother Hubberds Tale. Line 895.

Put money in thy purse.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Othello. Act i. Sc. 3.

Put out the light, and then put out the light:

If I quench thee, thou flaming minister,

I can again thy former light restore

Should I repent me; but once put out thy light,

Thou cunning'st pattern of excelling nature,

I know not where is that Promethean heat

That can thy light relume.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Othello. Act v. Sc. 2.

Mark now, how a plain tale shall put you down.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 4.