The force of his own merit makes his way-a gift that heaven gives for him.
O the world is but a word; were it all yours to give it in a breath, how quickly were it gone!
Nothing can come of nothing.
I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano; A stage where every man must play a part, And mine is a sad one.
This making of Christians will raise the price of hogs.
Nice customs curtsy to great kings.