This Senior-junior, Giant-dwarf, Dan Cupid; Regent Of

For This, Be Sure, Tonight Thou Shalt Have Cramps, Side-stitches That Shall Pen Thy Breath Up. Urchins Shall Forth At Vast Of Night That They May Work All Exercise On Thee. Thou Shalt Be Pinched As Thick As Honeycomb, Each Pinch More Stinging Than Bees That Made 'em.

The Horn, The Horn, The Lusty Horn Is Not A Thing To Laugh To Scorn.

There's Small Choice In Rotten Apples.

Let None Presume To Wear An Undeserved Dignity. O That Estates, Degrees, And Offices Were Not Derived Corruptly, And That Clear Honour Were Purchased By The Merit Of The Wearer!

Indeed, Sir, He That Sleeps Feels Not The Toothache; But A Man That Were To Sleep Your Sleep, And A Hangman To Help Him To Bed, I Think He Would Change Places With His Officer; For Look You, Sir, You Know Not Which Way You Shall Go.