Lord, Lord, how subject we old men are to this vice of lying!
Love's not love When it is mingled with regards that stand Aloof from th' entire point.
A man cannot make him laugh - but that's no marvel; he drinks no wine.
This feather stirs; she lives! if it be so, it is a chance which does redeem all sorrows that ever I have felt.
If our virtues did not go forth of us, it were all alike as if we had them not.
If I be waspish, best beware my sting.