It is not vain glory for a man and his glass to confer in his own chamber.
Virtue itself scapes not calumnious strokes.
Juliet is the east and i am the sun.
A jest's prosperity lies in the ear Of him that hears it, never in the tongue Of him that makes it.
What showers arise, blown with the windy tempest of my heart
An honest man, sir, is able to speak for himself, when a knave is not.