I have heard of some kind of men that put quarrels purposely on others, to taste their valor.

A college of wit-crackers cannot flout me out of my humor. Dost thou think I care for a satire or an epigram?

I scorn you, scurvy companion.

Men have died from time to time, and worms have eaten them, but not for love.

Though authority be a stubborn bear, yet he is oft let by the nose with gold.

For a noble heart, the most precious gift becomes poor, when the giver stops loving.

Bounty, being free itself, thinks all others so.