I can get no remedy against this consumption of the purse: borrowing only lingers and lingers it out, but the disease is incurable.

Fear and niceness, the handmaids of all women, or more truly, woman its pretty self.

Help, master, help! here's a fish hangs in the net, like a poor man's right in the law; 'twill hardly come out.

Oh, flatter me; for love delights in praises.

There is flattery in friendship.

For it falls out That what we have we prize not to the worth Whiles we enjoy it, but being lacked and lost, Why, then we rack the value, then we find The virtue that possession would not show us While it was ours.

Oh what fools we mortals are.