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Thou Sodden-witted Lord! Thou Hast No More Brain Than I Have In Mine Elbows.

My Thoughts Are Whirled Like A Potter's Wheel; I Know Not Where I Am Nor What I Do.

O, Let Him Pass. He Hates Him That Would Upon The Rack Of This Tough World Stretch Him Out Longer.

Day, Night, Late, Early, At Home, Abroad, Alone, In Company, Waking Or Sleeping, Still My Care Hath Been To Have Her Match'd; And Having Now Provided A Gentleman Of Princely Parentage, Of Fair Demesnes, Youthful, And Nobly Train'd, Stuff'd, As They Say, With Honourable Parts, Proportion'd As One's Thought Would Wish A Man- And Then To Have A Wretched Puling Fool, A Whining Mammet, In Her Fortune's Tender, To Answer 'i'll Not Wed, I Cannot Love; I Am Too Young, I Pray You Pardon Me'!

Give Them Great Meals Of Beef And Iron And Steel, They Will Eat Like Wolves And Fight Like Devils.