Who is Silvia What is she, That all our swains commend her Holy, fair, and wise is she.

What, man, defy the devil. Consider, he's an enemy to mankind.

Would it not grieve a woman to be over-mastered by a piece of valiant dust? to make an account of her life to a clod of wayward marle?

He is deformed, crooked, old and sere, Ill-faced, worse bodied, shapeless everywhere; Vicious, ungentle, foolish, blunt, unkind; Stigmatical in making, worse in mind.

When devils will the blackest sins put on They do suggest at first with heavenly shows

You are thought here to the most senseless and fit man for the job.

I were better to be eaten to death with a rust than to be scoured to nothing with perpetual motion.