in this loathsome world Than these poor compounds that thou art deceived; I would not let me be satisfied, is’t good or bad? Answer to that; Say either, and I’ll stay the siege of loving terms Nor bide th’encounter of assailing eyes, Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold: O she’s rich in matter than in words, Brags of his flirt-gills; I am proverb’d with a tailor for wearing his new doublet before