These times of woe afford no time to woo.

I will not trust you, I, Nor longer stay in your curst company. Your hands than mine are quicker for a fray, My legs are longer though, to run away.

I'll take thy word for faith, not ask thine oath; Who shuns not to break one will sure crack both.

To wilful men, the injuries that they themselves procure must be their schoolmasters.

All that glitters is not gold.

When griping grief the heart doth wound, and doleful dumps the mind opresses, then music, with her silver sound, with speedy help doth lend redress.

That which in mean men we entitle patience is pale cold cowardice in noble breasts.