Out, You Tallow-face! You Baggage!

We Must Be Brief When Traitors Brave The Field.

Why, All Delights Are Vain; But That Most Vain, Which, With Pain Purchas'd, Doth Inherit Pain.

Finish, Good Lady; The Bright Day Is Done, And We Are For The Dark.

And Blind Oblivion Swallowed Cities Up.

And Therefore, — Since I Cannot Prove A Lover, To Entertain These Fair Well-spoken Days, — I Am Determined To Prove A Villain, And Hate The Idle Pleasures Of These Days.