Your Tale, Sir, Would Cure

Proper Deformity Shows Not In The Fiend So Horrid As In Woman.

Good Friend For Jesus Sake Forbeare, To Digg The Dust Encloased Heare! Blest Be The Man That Spares Thes Stones, And Curst Be He That Moves My Bones.

A Time, Methinks, Too Short To Make A World-without-end Bargain In.

I Have Been Long A Sleeper; But I Trust My Absence Doth Neglect No Great Design Which By My Presence Might Have Been Concluded.

O Villains, Vipers, Dogs, Easily Won To Fawn On Any Man!