Away, You Mouldy Rogue, Away!

Hang Him, Swaggering Rascal!

The Hand Of Little Employment Hath The Daintier Sense.

Wish Chastely, And Love Dearly.

Great Men May Jest With Saints; 'tis Wit In Them; But, In The Less Foul Profanation.

What Valor Were It, When A Cur Doth Grin, For One To Thrust His Hand Between His Teeth, When He Might Spurn Him With His Foot Away?