Hang him, swaggering rascal!

I have touch'd the highest point of all my greatness, And from that full meridian of my glory I haste now to my setting.

Liberty plucks justice by the nose; The baby beats the nurse, and quite athwart Goes all decorum.

Let him smell his way to Dover!

O, what a world of vile ill-favored faults, looks handsome in three hundred pounds a year!

She is a woman, therefore to be won.

The pleasant'st angling is to see the fish Cut with her golden oars the silver stream And greedily devour the treacherous bait.