A Pox O’ Your Throat, You Bawling,

One Touch Of Nature Makes The Whole World Kin.

The Art Of Our Necessities Is Strange That Can Make Vile Things Precious.

I'll Be At Charges For A Looking-glass And Entertain A Score Or Two Of Tailors To Study Fashions To Adorn My Body: Since I Am Crept In Favor With Myself, I Will Maintain It With Some Little Cost.

Rumour Doth Double, Like The Voice And Echo, The Numbers Of The Feared.

But She Makes Hungry Where She Most Satisfies.