What, with my tongue in your tail? nay, come again, Good Kate; I am a gentleman.
He's loved of the distracted multitude, who like not in their judgement, but their eyes.
what cannot be saved when fate takes, patience her injury a mockery makes
What my tongue dares not that my heart shall say
Our wills and fates do so contrary run.
Why, who cries out on pride that can therein tax any private party? Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea till the weary very means do ebb?