“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!”

“Wolves and bears, they say, casting their savagery aside, have done like offices of pity.”

“We that are true lovers run into strange capers; but as all is mortal in nature, so is all nature in love mortal in folly.”

“What's the news?None, my lord, but that the world's grown honest,Then is doomsday near.”