āNow, infidel, I have you on the hip!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
āCall me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me.ā
āGive me that man that is not passion's slave, and I will wear him in my heart's core, in my heart of heart, as I do thee.ā
āAn two men ride of a horse, one must ride behind.ā