If one good deed in all my life I did, I do repent it from my very soul.
You take my life when you do take the means whereby I live
Soft pity enters an iron gate.
There live not three good men unhanged in England; and one of them is fat and grows old.
His forward voice now is to speak well of his friend. His backward voice is to utter foul speeches and to detract.
Beauty is but a vain and doubtful good; a shining gloss that fadeth suddenly; a flower that dies when it begins to bud; a doubtful good, a gloss, a glass, a flower, lost, faded, broken, dead within an hour.