βWine loved I deeply, dice dearly.β
βGet thee to a nunnery.β
βWolves and bears, they say, casting their savagery aside, have done like offices of pity.β
βWhat, no more ceremony? See, my women! Against the blown rose may they stop their nose That kneel'd unto the buds.β
βI am not bound to please thee with my answer.β
βAway, 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!β
βFat paunches have lean pates, and dainty bits Make rich the ribs, but backrout quite the wits.β
βThe signs of excessive indulgence in this destructive pastime are easily detectable. They are these: A disposition to eat, to drink, to smoke, to meet together convivially, to laugh, to joke, and tell indelicate storiesβ and mainly, a yearning to paint pictures.β
βWe do not get ice-cream every where, and so, when we do, we are apt to dissipate to excess.β