He that departs with his own honesty For Vulgar , doth it too dearly buy.

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

True melancholy breeds your perfect fine wit.

I remember, the players have often mentioned it as an honour to Shakespeare, that in his writing (whatsoever he penned) he never plotted out a line. My answer hath been, would he had blotted a thousand.

True gladness doth not always speak; joy, bred and born but in the tongue, is weak.

A thankful man owes a courtesy ever; the unthankful but when he needs it.

He who is taught only by himself has a fool for a master.