Mine eyes are full of tears, my heart of grief.
A merry heart goes all the way, - A sad one tires inan hour.
That god forbid, that made me first your slave, I should in thought control your times of pleasure, Or at your hand th' account of hours to crave, Being your vassal bound to stay your leisure.
An honest man, sir, is able to speak for himself, when a knave is not.
To be direct and honest is not safe.
Hanging and wiving goes by destiny.