Why should you think that I should woo in scorn? Scorn and derision never come in tears: Look, when I vow, I weep; and vows so born, In their nativity all truth appears. How can these things in me seem scorn to you, Bearing the badge of faith, to prove them true?

I am indeed, sir, a surgeon to old shoes; when they are in great danger I recover them.

Wise men ne'er sit and wail their woes, but presently prevent the ways to wail.

We have some salt of our youth in us.

That you were once unkind befriends me now, And for that sorrow, which I then did feel, Needs must I under my transgression bow, Unless my nerves were brass or hammered steel.

I cannot do it without comp[u]ters.

I should think this a gull, but that the white-bearded fellow speaks it; knavery cannot, sure, hide himself in such reverence.