“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!”

“Why, look you, I am whipp'd and scourg'd with rods,Nettled and stung with pismires[nettles], when I hearOf this vile politician, Bolingbroke.”

“Out of my sight! Thou dost infect mine eyes.”

“Evermore in the world is this marvelous balance of beauty and disgust, magnificence and rats.”