A man may fish with the worm that hath eat of a king, and eat of the fish that hath fed of that worm
Graze on my lips; and if those hills be dry, stray lower, where the pleasant fountains lie.
They that touch pitch will be defiled.
If thou dost love, proclaim it faithfully.
A sad tale's best for winter. I have one of sprites and goblins.
Thou unfit for any place but hell.