These violent delights have violent ends
And in their triumph die, like fire and powder

That such a crafty devil as is his mother
Should yield the world this ass!

But now I see our lances are but straws,
Our strength as weak

I fear thou'lt once more come again for ransom.

Well then, confess and live.

Scrambling, out-facing, fashion-monging boys,
That lie and cog and flout, deprave and slander,
Go anticly, show outward hideousness

Why, boy! why, wag! how now! what's the matter?
Look up; speak.

Why do you put these sayings upon me?

Sap cheque'd with frost and lusty leaves quite gone,
Beauty o'ersnow'd and bareness every where

There's letters seal'd: and my two schoolfellows,
Whom I will trust as I will adders fang'd,
They bear the mandate