āTake you me for a sponge?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
āTis not a year or two shows us a man:They are all but stomachs, and we all but food;They eat us hungerly, and when they are fullThey belch us.ā
āWhen rich villains have need of poor ones, poor ones may make what price they willā
āExperience demands that man is the only animal which devours his own kind, for I can apply no milder term to the general prey of the rich on the poor.ā