Twas never merry world Since lowly feigning was called compliment.
The bitter past, more welcome is the sweet.
Death is a fearful thing.
I should think this a gull, but that the white-bearded fellow speaks it; knavery cannot, sure, hide himself in such reverence.
I pray you, do not fall in love with me, for I am falser than vows made in wine.
Thanks, sir; all the rest is mute.