But, indeed, words are very rascals, since bonds [vows] disgraced them." Viola: "Thy reason, man?" Feste: "Troth [Truthfully], sir, I can yield you none without words, and words are grown so false, I am loathe to prove reason with them.

No evil lost is wailed when it is gone.

Now the melancholy God protect thee, and the tailor make thy garments of changeable taffeta, for thy mind is opal.

Like a barber's chair that fits all buttocks.

All difficulties are easy when they are known.

Let the galled jade wince; our withers are unwrung.

Some men there are love not a gaping pig, some that are mad if they behold a cat, and others when the bagpipe sings I the nose cannot contain their urine.