Venus smiles not in a house of tears.
We must every one be a man of his own fancy.
Is it not strange, that sheep's guts should hale souls out of men's bodies!
An arrant traitor as any is in the universal world, or in France, or in England.
What should we speak of When we are old as you? when we shall hear The rain and wind beat dark December? how, In this our pinching cave, shall we discourse The freezing hours away?
To show our simple skill, That is the true beginning of our end.