Thou Detestable Maw, Thou Womb Of Death.

Thy Wish Was Father, Harry, To That Thought.

How Quickly Nature Falls Into Revolt When Gold Becomes Her Object! For This The Foolish Over-careful Fathers Have Broke Their Sleep With Thoughts, Their Brains With Care, Their Bones With Industry.

To Beguile The Time, Look Like The Time.

And My Poor Fool Is Hanged! No, No, No Life! Why Should A Dog, A Horse, A Rat, Have Life, And Thou No Breath At All? Thou'lt Come No More, Never, Never, Never, Never, Never! Pray You, Undo This Button.

This Act Is An Ancient Tale New Told; And, In The Last Repeating, Troublesome, Being Urged At A Time Unseasonable.