Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing, more than any man in all Venice. His reasons are as two grains of wheat hid in two bushels of chaff: you shall seek all day ere you find them, and when you have them, they are not worth the search.

All thy vexations Were but my trials of thy love, and thou Hast strangely stood the test; here, afore heaven, I ratify this my rich gift.

Love is like a child, That longs for everything it can come by

Shall I never see a bachelor of three score again?

I profess not talking: only this, Let each man do his best.

The devil is a gentleman.

I were better to be eaten to death with a rust than to be scoured to nothing with perpetual motion.