Have patience, and endure
Care I for the limb, the thews, the stature, bulk, and big assemblance of a man! Give me the spirit.
I was not born under a rhyming planet, nor I cannot woo to in festival terms.
Muster your wits; stand in your own defence.
Out, you tallow-face! You baggage!
If the skin were parchment and the blows you gave were ink, Your own handwriting would tell you what I think.