Could my griefs speak, the tale would have no end.
Love reigns a very tyrant in my heart.
No flattery, boy! an honest man cannot live by it; it is a little, sneaking art, which knaves use to cajole and soften fools withal.
Honesty needs no disguise nor ornament; be plain.
Dame Fortune, like most others of the female sex, is generally most indulgent to the nimble-mettled blockheads.
The worst thing an old man can be is a lover.