God mark thee to His grace! Thou was the prettiest babe that e'er I nursed. And might I live to see thee married once, I have my wish.

Things are often spoke and seldom meant.

I pardon him, as God shall pardon me.

I must to the barber's, monsieur, for methinks I am marvellous hairy about the face.

Cursed be the hand that made these fatal holes.

Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy.

Put forth thy hand, reach at the glorious gold.