You Peasant Swain! You Whoreson Malt-horse Drudge!

Get Thee A Good Husband, And Use Him As He Uses Thee.

There Is A History In All Men's Lives, Figuring The Nature Of The Times Deceased, The Which Observed, A Man May Prophesy, With A Near Aim, Of The Main Chance Of Things As Yet Not Come To Life, Which In Their Seeds And Weak Beginnings Lie Intreasured.

Pray You Now, Forget And Forgive.

Who Is Silvia What Is She, That All Our Swains Commend Her Holy, Fair, And Wise Is She.

Never; He Will Not: Age Cannot Wither Her, Nor Custom Stale Her Infinite Variety: Other Women Cloy The Appetites They Feed: But She Makes Hungry Where Most She Satisfies.