I disdain to have any parents. I'll not speak a word for a king's ransome, unless the goslind be perfum'd and covr'd with cloth of Arras
You and you and you all, shall turn into gold, so that I might lock you safe in my chest.
Oh, that there might be a famine over all the world, that all might die and I live alone, then thou shoulds'y see how fat I'd be. But must thou sit and I stand? Come down wit a vengence.
I run up and down with a case of rapiers, wounding myself when I could get none to fight withal, I was born in hell, and will die in hell. I look forward to it.
I love raw meat, none of those evenly-done flip-fried fish
my parents have left me the devil a penny: but a small pension and that buys thirty meals a day and ten bevers. Now that thou has heard my progeny will thou bid me to supper!
I was begotten on a sunny bank where I have lain ever since. You have done me a great injury by moving me from hence. Let me be carried thither again. I'll now speak another word for a king's ransom.
