No, no, no, no! Come, let's away to prison: We two alone will sing like birds i' the cage: When thou dost ask me blessing, I'll kneel down, And ask of thee forgiveness: so we'll live, And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh At gilded butterflies, and hear poor rogues Talk of court news; and we'll talk with them too, Who loses and who wins; who's in, who's out; And take upon's the mystery of things, As if we were God's spies: and we'll wear out, In a wall'd prison, packs and sects of great ones, That ebb and flow by the moon.

Each present joy or sorrow seems the chief.

There is a history in all men's lives.

Honesty is the best policy. If I lose mine honor, I lose myself.

His neigh is like the bidding of a monarch, and his countenance enforces homage. He is indeed a horse.

Your tale, sir, would cure deafness.

A true repentance shuns the evil itself, more than the external suffering or the shame.