Like one of two contending in a prize, That thinks he hath done well in people's eyes […]

[…] to destroy the affections of truth, and thereby the pleasantnesses and happinesses of heaven […]

The children came home from the beach pinkishly sunburned.

GOD'S TEETH, DOGGEREL! That's all I ever hear from that mitred prince. Hellfire and chopblocks. The gibbet and brimstone. God, what a sick man he is! What do they do to amuse themselves in Rome? Smack midgets?