The icy precepts of respect.

The jury passing on the prisoner's life may in the sworn twelve have a thief or two guiltier than him they try.

Foul whisp'rings are abroad.

Drown thyself? Drown cats and blind puppies.

I wasted time, and now doth time waste me; For now hath time made me his numbering clock: My thoughts are minutes; and with sighs they jar Their watches on unto mine eyes, the outward watch, Whereto my finger, like a dial's point, Is pointing still, in cleansing them from tears. Now sir, the sound that tells what hour it is Are clamorous goans, which strike upon my heart, Which is the bell: so sighs and tears and groans Show minutes, times, and hours.

He draweth out the thread of his verbosity finer than the staple of his argument.

I do desire we may be better strangers.