Beggar that I am, I am even poor in thanks, but I thank you; and sure, dear friends, my thanks are too dear a halfpenny.

A true repentance shuns the evil itself, more than the external suffering or the shame.

I'll say she looks as clear as morning roses newly washed with dew.

For in that sleep of death what dreams may come.

Pardon's the word to all.

How use doth breed a habit in a man.

My love to thee is sound, sans crack or flaw.