What a deformed thief this fashion is.
And makes me poor indeed.
No evil lost is wailed when it is gone.
O God, O God, how weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable seem to me all the uses of this world!
Thou mak'st me merry: I am full of pleasure; let us be jocund
What, man, defy the devil. Consider, he's an enemy to mankind.