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A mad-cap ruffian, and a swearing jack,
I know them, yea, And what they weigh, even to the utmost scruple : Scambling, out-facing, fashion-mong’ring boys, That lie, and cog, and Aout, deprave and slander, Go antickly, and show outward hideousness, And speak off half-a-dozen dangerous words, How they might hurt their enemies, if they durst, And this is all.
A gallant curtle-axe upon my thigh,
other mannish cowards have, That do outface it with their semblances.
I'll turn two mincing steps Into a manly stride : and speak of frays Like a fine bragging youth : and tell quaint lies, How honourable ladies sought my love, Which I denying, they fell sick and dy'd : I could not do with all :-then I will repent, And wish, for all that, that I had not kill'd them : And twenty of these puny lies I'll tell, That men shall swear, I have discontinued school Above a twelvemonth.
Since brevity is the soul of wit, And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes,I will be brief.
None does offend, none, I say none; I'll able 'em :
What, shall one of us,
You have ungently, Brutus, Stole from my bed : and yesternight, at supper, You suddenly arose, and walk'd about, Musing, and sighing, with your arms across : And when I ask'd you what the matter was, You star'd upon me with ungentle looks.
Then, gentle Clarence, welcome unto Warwick;
The wound of peace is surety,
It seems, it is as proper to our age
For oaths are straws, men's faiths are wafer-cakes,
I never in my life Did hear a challenge urg'd more modestly, Unless a brother should a brother dare To gentle exercise and proof of arms. Now, Thomas Mowbray, do I turn to thee, And mark my greeting well; for what I speak, My body shall make good upon this earth, Or my
divine soul answer it in heaven. Thou art a traitor and a miscreant,
For his bounty, There was no winter in't; an autumn 'twas, That grew the more by reaping.
Take physic, pomp; Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel; That thou may'st shake the superflux to them, And shew the heavens more just.
The stealth of our most mutual entertainment, With character too gross, is writ on Juliet.
Almost at fainting, under The pleasing punishment that women bear.
At first, the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms. The whining school boy, with his satchel, And shining morning face, creeping like snail Unwillingly to school.
to the grave,
Behold, my Lords,
of the father : eye, nose, lip,
The poor wren,
O, 'tis a parlous boy ;