You are not worth another word, else I'd call you Knave.

Why are thou then exasperate, thou idle immaterial skein of sleave-silk, thou green sarsenet flap for a sore eye, thou tassel of a prodigal's purse, thou? Ah, how the world is pestered with such waterflies, diminutives of nature.

Thou whoreson zed, thou unnecessary letter.

This woman's an easy glove, my Lord, she goes off and on at pleasure.

You shew'd your teethes like Apes, and fawn'd like hounds and bow'd like Bondmen.

Like the toad, ugly and venemous.

You fat and greasy citizens.

Like a villaine with a smiling cheek, a goodly apple rotten at the heart.

You common cry of curs! whose breath I hate as reek o' th' rotten fens, whose loves I prize as the dead carcasses of unburied men that do corrupt my air.