At Christmas, I No More Desire A

They Say Best Men Are Molded Out Of Faults, And, For The Most, Become Much More The Better For Being A Little Bad

Adieu! I Have Too Grieved A Heart To Take A Tedious Leave.

The Poor World Is Almost Six Thousand Years Old, And In All This Time There Was Not Any Man Died In His Own Person, Videlicet, In A Love-cause.

Well, If Fortune Be A Woman, She's A Good Wench For This Gear.

And I Will Make It Felony To Drink Small Beer.