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Saturday, March 18, 2006

Shakespearean Insulter

Shakespearean Insulter

Thou qualling ill-nurtured barnacle!
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Why dost thou converse with that trunk of humours, that bolting-hutch of beastliness, that swollen parcel of dropsies, that huge bombard of sack, that stuffed cloak-bag of guts, that roasted Manningtree ox with pudding in his belly, that reverend vice, that grey Iniquity, that father ruffian, that vanity in years?

Taken from: Henry IV, part I

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Thou loggerheaded base-court popinjay!



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