He draweth out the thread of his verbosity finer than the staple of his argument.

It is the bright day that brings forth the adder, and that craves wary walking.

An honest man, sir, is able to speak for himself, when a knave is not.

There is a devilish mercy in the judge, if you'll implore it, that will free your life, but fetter you till death.

All that glitters is not gold; Often have you heard that told: Many a man his life has sold But my outside to behold: Gilded tombs do worms enfold Had you been as wise as bold, Your in limbs, in judgment old, Your answer had not been in'scroll'd Fare you well: your suit is cold.' Cold, indeed, and labour lost: Then, farewell, heat and welcome, frost!

Nothing 'gainst Times scythe can make defence.

I am afeard there are few die well that die in battle, for how can they charitably dispose of anything when blood is their argument?