He that dies pays all debts.

I had rather be a Kitten, and cry mew, Than one of these same Meeter Ballad-mongers: I had rather heare a Brazen Candlestick turn'd, Or a dry Wheele grate on the Axle-tree, And that would set my teeth nothing an edge, Nothing so much, as mincing Poetrie.

There are many events in the womb of time which will be delivered.

Remuneration! O! That's the Latin word for three farthings

O jest unseen, inscrutable, invisible, As a nose on a man's face, or a weathercock on a steeple.

Honesty is not the best policy - merely the safest

There was a star danced, and under that was I born.