A knavish speech sleeps in a fool's ear.
Though music oft hath such a charm to make bad good, and good provoke to harm.
A plague of sighing and grief! It blows a man up like a bladder.
Heaven give you many, many merry days.
I see, sir, you are liberal in offers. You taught me first to beg, and now methinks You teach me how a beggar should be answered.
But men may construe things after their fashion, Clean from the purpose of the things themselves.