Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again.
Tush! Fear not, my lord, we will not stand to prate; Talkers are no good doers: be assured We come to use our hands and not our tongues.
He was ever precise in promise-keeping.
Men have died from time to time, and worms have eaten them, but not for love.
Where every something, being blent together turns to a wild of nothing.
You are not worth the dust which the rude wind Blows in your face.