Better a witty fool than a foolish wit.

Striving to better, oft we mar what’s well.

For naught so vile that on the earth doth live But to the earth some special good doth give.

There is little choice in a barrel of rotten apples.

Poor and content, is rich and rich enough; But riches, fineless, is as poor as winter, To him that ever fears he shall be poor.

What man art thou that, thus bescreened in night, So stumblest on my counsel? *Who are you? Why do you hide in the darkness and listen to my private thoughts?*

Why, there's a wench! Come on, and kiss me, Kate.