A very little thief of occasion will rob you of a great deal of patience.
My pride fell with my fortunes.
A man should be what he seems.
Beggar that I am, I am even poor in thanks
Your face, my thane, is as a book where men May read strange matters. To beguile the time, Look like the time; bear welcome in your eye, Your hand, your tongue: look like the innocent flower, But be the serpent under't.
So will I turn her virtue into pitch, And out of her own goodness make the net That shall enmesh them all.