Company, villainous company, hath been the spoil of me.
Examine well your blood.
Do not, as some ungracious pastors do, Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven; Whilst, like a puff'd and reckless libertine, Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads And recks not his own read.
Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?
Unsubstantial Death is amorous.
Oh! that you could turn your eyes towards the napes of your necks, and make but an interior survey of your good selves.