From Henry IV Part 2
Your means are very slender, and your waste is great
You are as a candle, the better part burnt out
So, thou common dog, didst thou disgorge thy glutton bosom?
He hath eaten me out of house and home, he hath put all my substance into that fat belly of his
What a disgrace it is to me that I should remember your name
What a maidenly man at arms you have become
A pox damn you, you muddy rascal, is that all the comfort you bring me?
Hang yourself, you muddy conger
His wit's as thick as a Tewkesbury mustard
Is thy name Mouldy ?
Lord, how subject we old men are to this vice of lying
A ruffian that will swear, drink, dance, revel the night, rob, murder and commit the oldest of ins the newest kind of ways.
Thou damned tripe visaged rascal
For anything I know Falstaff shall die of a sweat, unless already he be killed with your hard opinions