“Get thee to a nunnery.”

“Wolves and bears, they say, casting their savagery aside, have done like offices of pity.”

“What, no more ceremony? See, my women! Against the blown rose may they stop their nose That kneel'd unto the buds.”

“I am not bound to please thee with my answer.”

“Away, 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!”

“Into what dangers would you lead me, Cassius, That you would have me seek into myself For that which is not in me?”

“Haply a woman's voice may do some goodWhen articles too nicely urged be stood on.”

“The tartness of his face sours ripe grapes.”