John Marston

I can tell you, I am a mad waghalter.

In thee both wit and beauty's resident; / Delightful pleasure, unpeered excellence.

But do I not know these are but brain-tricks?

Thou dotest upon a devil, not a woman, / That has bewitched thee with her sorcery / And drowned thy soul in Lethy faculties.

Dost make a mummer of me, oxe-head?

Beauty can turn the rugged face of War / And make him smile upon delightful Peace, / Courting her smoothly like a femalist.

Faith, if we were disposed, we might sin as safe as if we had the broad seal to warrant it; but that night's work will stick by me this forty weeks.

Well said, wench, and the prick-song we use shall be our husbands'.

Mountebank with thy pedantical action, / Rinatrix, bugle-ox, rhinoceros.

Would I had had the circumcising of thee, Jew, ide ha' cut short your cuckold-maker; I would i'faith, I would ifaith!