I envy thee not thy faith, which is ever in thy mouth but never in thy heart nor in thy practice

What a strange scene if the surge of conversation could suddenly ebb like the tide, and show us the real state of people's minds.

Still are the thoughts to memory dear.

Honour is a homicide and a bloodspiller, that gangs about making frays in the street; but Credit is a decent honest man, that sits at hame and makes the pat play.

But woe awaits a country when She sees the tears of bearded men.

Certainly," quoth Athelstane, "women are the least to be trusted of all animals, monks and abbots excepted.

Commend me to sterling honesty though clad in rags.