'Tis dangerous to take a cold, to sleep, to drink; but I tell you, my lord fool, out of this nettle, danger, we pluck this flower, safety.

The devil is a gentleman.

This cold night will turn us all to fools and madmen.

My pride fell with my fortunes.

My love is deep; the more I give to thee, the more I have, both are infinite.

Foul cankering rust the hidden treasure frets, but gold that's put to use more gold begets.

Gnarling sorrow hath less power to bite The man that mocks at it and sets it light.