Come my spade. There is no ancient gentlemen but gardeners, ditchers, and grave-makers; they hold up Adam's profession.

Honest plain words best pierce the ear of grief.

When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions.

Not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved Rome more.

Polonius: Do you know me, my lord? Hamlet: Excellent well. You are a fishmonger.

No beast so fierce but knows some touch of pity. But I know none, and therefore am no beast.

This fellow is wise enough to play the fool; And to do that well craves a kind of wit: He must observe their mood on whom he jests, The quality of persons, and the time, And, like the haggard, check at every feather That comes before his eye. This is a practise As full of labour as a wise man's art For folly that he wisely shows is fit; But wise men, folly-fall'n, quite taint their wit.