“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!”

“Farewell, fair cruelty.”

“Farewell the plumed troop, and the big warsThat make ambition virtue! O, farewell!Farewell the neighing steed and the shrill trump,The spirit-stirring drum, th' ear-piercing fife,The royal banner, and all quality,Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war!”

“Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing.”