What's the newest grief? Each minute tunes a new one.

One man in his time plays many parts.

When a gentlemen is disposed to swear, it is not for any standers-by to curtail his oaths.

Their lips were four red roses on a stalk.

Methinks sometimes I have no more wit than a Christian or an ordinary man has; but I am a great eater of beef, and I believe that does harm to my wit.

He is dead and gone, lady, He is dead and gone; At his head a grass-green turf, At his heels a stone.

What man art thou that, thus bescreened in night, So stumblest on my counsel? *Who are you? Why do you hide in the darkness and listen to my private thoughts?*