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

“Ay, to the proof, as mountains are for winds, that shakes not, though they blow perpetually.”

“If after every tempest come such calms,May the winds blow till they have waken'd death!”

“Ring the alarum-bell! Blow, wind! come, wrack! At least we'll die with harness on our back.”

“Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! Rage! Blow! You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout Till you have drenched our teeples, drowned the cocks! You sulphurour and thought-executing fires, Vaunt-couriers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts, Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking thunder, Strike flat the thick rotundity o' the world! Crack nature's molds, all germens spill at once That make ingrateful man!”

“Thine face is not worth sunburning.”

“This rudeness is a sauce to his good wit,Which gives men stomach to digest his wordsWith better appetite.”