“Out, you tallow-face! You baggage!”

“They lie deadly that tell you have good faces.”

“Or are you like the painting of a sorrow, a face without a heart?”

“You are not worth the dust which the rude wind blows in your face”

“Nay, I beseech you, sir, be not out with me: yet,if you be out, sir, I can mend you.”

“Why, what's the matter,That you have such a February face,So full of frost, of storm and cloudiness?”

“I have heard of your paintings too, well enough; Godhas given you one face, and you make yourselvesanother: you jig, you amble, and you lisp, andnick-name God's creatures, and make your wantonnessyour ignorance. Go to, I'll no more on't; it hathmade me mad.”