Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath hath had no power yet upon thy beauty.

I am but mad north-north-west. When the wind is southerly, I know a hawk from a handsaw.

The good I stand on is my truth and honesty.

That is not the best sermon which makes the hearers go away talking to one another and praising the speaker, but which makes them go away thoughtful and serious, and hastening to be alone.

Gives not the hawthorn bush a sweeter shade To shepherds, looking on their silly sheep, Than doth a rich embroider'd canopy To kings that fear their subjects treachery?

Things done well and with a care, exempt themselves from fear.

I’ll look to like, if looking liking move; But no more deep will I endart mine eye than your consent gives strength to make it fly.