A Beggar's Book Outworths A Noble's Blood.

I Told You, Sir, They Were Red-hot With Drinking; So Full Of Valor That They Smote The Air, For Breathing In Their Faces, Beat The Ground For Kissing Of Their Feet.

I Have Thrust Myself Into This Maze, Haply To Wive And Thrive As Best I May.

I Do Desire We May Be Better Strangers.

The Why Is Plain As Way To Parish Church: He That A Fool Doth Very Wisely Hit Doth Very Foolishly, Although He Smart, Not To Seem Senseless Of The Bob; If Not, The Wise Man's Folly Is Anatomiz'd Even By The Squand'ring Glances Of The Fool.

Hang Him, Swaggering Rascal!