The fewer men, the greater share of honor.

Assume a virtue, if you have it not. That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat, Of habits devil, is angel yet in this, That to the use of actions fair and good He likewise gives a frock or livery That aptly is put on. Refrain tonight, And that shall lend a kind of easiness To the next abstinence; the next more easy; For use almost can change the stamp of nature.

My love admits no qualifying dross

All that glisters is not gold; Often have you heard that told: Many a man his life hath sold But my outside to behold: Gilded tombs do worms enfold.

My pride fell with my fortunes.

Do you not know I am a woman? when I think, I must speak.

We do not keep the outward form of order, where there is deep disorder in the mind.