By my troth, I care not; a man can die but once; we owe God a death and let it go which way it will he that dies this year is quit for the next
Grace and remembrance be to you both.
When workmen strive to do better than well, they do confound their skill in covetousness.
The lady doth protest too much, methinks.
What we determine we often break. Purpose is but the slave to memory.
This is no time to lend money, especially upon bare friendship without security.