And be these juggling friends no more believ'd, That palter with us in a double sense; That keep the word of promise to our ear And break it to our hope.

This rudeness is a sauce to his good wit, Which gives men stomach to digest his words With better appetite.

Maids want nothing but husbands, and when they have them, they want everything.

I find my zenith doth depend upon A most auspicious star, whose influence If now I court not, but omit, my fortunes Will ever after droop.

Be cheerful; wipe thine eyes: Some falls are means the happier to arise

Tis a happy thing To be the father unto many sons.

Friendship is full of dregs.