Then there’s hope a great man’s memory may outlive his life half a year. But by’r lady, he must build churches then;

What should a man do but be merry? For look you how cheerfully my mother looks, and my father died within's two hours.

No, no, they do but jest, poison in jest; no offence i' th' world.

As woman's love.

A second time I kill my husband dead, / When second husband kisses me in bed.

Thou wretched, rash, intruding fool, farewell! I took thee for thy better.

We go to gain a little patch of ground / That hath in it no profit but the name. / To pay five ducats, five, I would not farm it; / Nor will it yield to Norway or the Pole / A ranker rate, should it be sold in fee.

When in your motion you are hot and dry, / As make your bouts more violent to that end, / And that he calls for drink, I’ll have prepar’d him / A chalice for the nonce; whereon but sipping, / If he by chance escape your venom’d stuck, / Our purpose may hold there.

Is she to be buried in Christian burial, when she wilfully seeks her own salvation?

There is no ancient gentlemen but gardeners, ditchers, and grave-makers: they hold up Adam's profession.