The Present Eye Praises The Present Object.

A Fusty Nut With No Kernel.

So Long As Men Can Breathe, Or Eyes Can See, So Long Lives This, And This Gives Life To Thee.

'sblood, You Starveling, You Elf-skin, You Dried Neat's Tongue, You Bull's Pizzle, You Stock-fish! O For Breath To Utter What Is Like Thee! You Tailor's-yard, You Sheath, You Bowcase; You Vile Standing-tuck!

I Have Pursued Her, As Love Hath Pursued Me

Hide Not Thy Poison With Such Sugar'd Words