āI was a coward on instinct.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
āThey that have voice of lions and act of hares,--are they not monsters?ā
āThat which in mean men we entitle patience is pale cold cowardice in noble breasts.ā
āO faithless coward! O dishonest wretch!Wilt thou be made a man out of my vice?ā