Thou whoreson, senseless villain!

I would I were senseless, sir, that I might not feel your blows.

Thou art sensible in nothing but blows, and so is an ass.

Come back villain, that I might beat thee more
To bait fish withal: if my anger will feed nothing else,
it will feed my revenge.
He hath disgraced me, laughed at my losses,
Mocked at my gains, scorned my nation
Thwarted my bargains, cooled my friends,
Heated mine enemies; and what's his reason?
I am popular. Hath not a popular girl eyes?
Hath not the in crowd hands, organs,
Dimensions, senses, affections, passions? fed with
The same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject
To the same diseases, healed by the same means,
Warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer,
As a reject is? If you prick us, do we not bleed?
if you tickle us, do we not laugh? if you poison
us, do we not die? and if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?
If we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you in that.
If a popular girl wrong a reject,
what is his humility? Revenge. If a pathetic looser
wrong a popular person, what should his sufferance be by
looser example? Why, revenge. The villany you
teach me, I will execute, and it shall go hard but I will better the instruction.

With cat-like tread,
Upon our prey we steal;
In silence dread,
Our cautious way we feel.
No sound at all!
We never speak a word;
A fly's foot-fall
Would be distinctly heard—Come, friend, who’s wronged by men,
Turn to agitation;
Take another station;
Let's vary vengeancey
With a little justicey!
Sometimes don’t you just wish…

I wish for the world to see with my view,
That speaking Ass that oft brayed before me.

Yeah, whatever-eth.

O how much more doth beauty beauteous seem
By that sweet ornament which Glory doth give.

Thy bosom is endeared with all hearts
Which I by lacking have supposed dead,
And there reigns Glory

O grim-look'd night! O night with hue so black!
O night, which ever art when day is not!
O night, O night! alack, alack, alack,
I fear my key's promise is forgot!
And thou, O wench, O sweet, O lovely woman,
That stand'st between me and mine key!
Thou wall, O wench, O sweet and lovely woman,
Show me my key, or I’ll make thee to blink through with mine eye!

Thy key I have naught, but oft have I seen
Adam, the demon knight, wear it upon a chain
About his neck and from time to time take it out to sigh upon.

Thanks, courteous wench: Jove shield thee well for this!
But what see I? No Adam do I see.
O wicked woman, through whom I see no bliss!
Cursed be thy flesh for thus deceiving me!