There is no vice so simple but assumes some mark of virtue on his outward parts.

I can get no remedy against this consumption of the purse: borrowing only lingers and lingers it out, but the disease is incurable.

O! Let me not be mad, not mad, sweet heaven; keep me in temper; I would not be mad!

New customs, Though they be never so ridiculous (Nay, let em be unmanly), yet are followed.

By God, I cannot flatter, I do defy The tongues of soothers! but a braver place In my heart's love hath no man than yourself. Nay, task me to my word; approve me, lord.

Dumb jewels often, in their silent kind, more than quick words, do move a woman's mind.

The big round tears Cours'd one another down his innocent nose, In piteous chase.