Now, my masters, happy man be his dole, say I; every man to his business.

I have seen roses damask'd, red and white, But no such roses see I in her cheeks.

Tis not the many oaths that make the truth; But the plain single vow, that is vow'd true.

You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things!

The last taste of sweets is sweetest last.

But jealous souls will not be answered so, They are not ever jealous for the cause, But jealous for they're jealous. 'Tis a monster Begot upon itself, born on itself.

Profit is a blessing, if it's not stolen.