There's no scandal like rags, nor any crime so shameful as poverty. >>
Money is the sinews of love, as of war. >>
Poetry is a mere drug, Sir. >>
A whoreson jackanapes must take me up for swearing; as if I borrowed m >>
'Twas but my tongue, 'twas not my soul that swore. >>
Ay, ay, the best terms will grow obsolete: damns have had their day. >>
Grant me some wild expressions, Heavens, or I shall burst.