A High Hope For A Low Heaven:

Thou Frothy Tickle-brained Hedge-pig!

I Am Such A Tender Ass, If My Hair Do But Tickle Me, I Must Scratch.

O World, How Apt The Poor Are To Be Proud!

I Will Speak Daggers To Her, But Use None.

Thou Seest I Have More Flesh Than Another Man, And Therefore More Frailty.