I'll break my staff, bury it certain fathoms in the earth, and deeper than did ever plummet sound, I'll drown my book!
Demand me nothing: what you know, you know.
As chaste as is the bud ere it be blown.
An honest man, sir, is able to speak for himself, when a knave is not.
The robbed that smiles, steals something from the thief.
Prosperity's the very bond of love, Whose fresh complexion and whose heart together Affliction alters.