Let me be ignorant, and in nothing good, but graciously to know I am no better.

Presume not that I am the thing I was.

She lov'd me for the dangers I had pass'd, And I lov'd her that she did pity them

I were better to be eaten to death with a rust than to be scoured to nothing with perpetual motion.

I had rather have a fool to make me merry than experience to make me sad and to travel for it too!

O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath!

My conscience hath a thousand several tongues, And every tongue brings in a several tale, And every tale condemns me for a villain. Perjury, perjury, in the high'st degree; Murder, stern murder in the dir'st degree, Throng to the bar, crying all, 'Guilty!, guilty!