Society is no comfort, to one not sociable.

The lady doth protest too much, methinks.

One good deed dying tongueless Slaughters a thousand waiting upon that. Our praises are our wages.

He reads much; He is a great observer and he looks Quite through the deeds of men: he loves no plays, As thou dost, Antony; he hears no music; Seldom he smiles, and smiles in such a sort As if he mock'd himself and scorn'd his spirit That could be moved to smile at any thing. Such men as he be never at heart's ease Whiles they behold a greater than themselves, And therefore are they very dangerous.

So, good night unto you all. Give me your hands, if we be friends, and Robin shall restore amends.

If this were played upon a stage now, I could condemn it as an improbable fiction.

Women's weapons, water-drops.