Nor use too swelling, or ill-sounded words . . . .

A new disease? I know not, new or old, but it may well be called poor mortals plague for, like a pestilence, it doth infect the houses of the brain till not a thought, or motion, in the mind, be free from the black poison of suspect.

You learn nothing about someone by the way they win the fight, you learn everything about the way they lose and keep coming back.

Ods me I marle what pleasure or felicity they have in taking their roguish tobacco. It is good for nothing but to choke a man, and fill him full of smoke and embers.

I do honor the very flea of his dog.

The voice so sweet, the words so fair, As some soft chime had stroked the air; And though the sound had parted thence, Still left an echo in the sense.

A good man should and must Sit rather down with loss than rise unjust.