The End Crowns All, And That Old

He Does It With Better Grace, But I Do It More Natural.

Can It Be Chat Modesty May More Betray Our Sense Than Woman's Lightness?

I Have Heard Of Your Paintings Too, Well Enough; God Has Given You One Face, And You Make Yourselves Another: You Jig, You Amble, And You Lisp, And Nick-name God's Creatures, And Make Your Wantonness Your Ignorance. Go To, I'll No More On't; It Hath Made Me Mad.

Pray You Now, Forget And Forgive.

A Jest's Prosperity Lies In The Ear Of Him That Hears It, Never In The Tongue Of Him That Makes It.