Such Antics Do Not Amount To A

Zounds! I Was Never So Bethumped With Words Since I First Called My Brother's Father Dad.

Shall I Not Take Mine Ease In Mine Inn But I Shall Have My Pocket Picked?

Anger's My Meat. I Sup Upon Myself, And So Shall Starve With Feeding.

The Icy Precepts Of Respect.

Canst Thou, O Partial Sleep, Give Thy Repose To The Wet Sea-boy In An Hour So Rude, And In The Calmest And Most Stillest Night, With All Appliances And Means To Boot, Deny It To A King?