These cardinals trifle with me; I abhor; This dilatory sloth and tricks of Rome.

Bait the hook well. This fish will bite.

We go to gain a little patch of ground that hath in it no profit but the name.

From this day forward until the end of the world...we in it shall be remembered...we band of brothers.

Time shall unfold what plaited cunning hides: Who cover faults, at last shame them derides.

[S]ince brevity is the soul of wit, And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes, I will be brief.

When remedies are past, the griefs are ended By seeing the worst, which late on hopes depended. To mourn a mischief that is past and gone Is the next way to draw new mischief on. What cannot be preserved when fortune takes, Patience her injury a mockery makes. The robb'd that smiles steals something for the thief; He robs himself that spends a bootless grief.