Mine eyes smell onions: I shall weep anon.
I am sure care's an enemy to life.
Thou whoreson zed! thou unnecessary letter!
For now they kill me with a living death.
Man, proud man, drest in a little brief authority, most ignorant of what he's most assur d, glassy essence, like an angry ape, plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven, as make the angels weep.
There was never yet fair woman but she made mouths in a glass.