āAnd blind oblivion swallowed cities up.ā
āGet thee to a nunnery.ā
āWolves and bears, they say, casting their savagery aside, have done like offices of pity.ā
āWhat, no more ceremony? See, my women! Against the blown rose may they stop their nose That kneel'd unto the buds.ā
āI am not bound to please thee with my answer.ā
āAway, you cut-purse rascal! you filthy bung, away! By this wine, I'll thrust my knife in your mouldy chaps, an you play the saucy cuttle with me. Away, you bottle-ale rascal! you basket-hilt stale juggler, you!ā
āIn winter's tedious nights sit by the fire With good old folks, and let them tell thee tales Of woeful ages, long ago betidā
āThis act is an ancient tale new told;And, in the last repeating, troublesome,Being urged at a time unseasonable.ā
āFor God's sake, let us sit upon the ground And tell sad stories of the death of kings.ā