Many strokes, though with a little axe, hew down and fell the hardest-timber'd oak.

Though justice be thy plea consider this, that in the course of justice none of us should see salvation.

My love admits no qualifying dross

So far be distant; and good night, sweet friend: thy love ne'er alter, till they sweet life end

Well, if Fortune be a woman, she's a good wench for this gear.

Good morning to you, fair and gracious daughter.

I see, sir, you are liberal in offers. You taught me first to beg, and now methinks You teach me how a beggar should be answered.