Forbear to judge, for we are sinners all.
Use every man after his desert, and who should scape whipping?
Poor and content is rich, and rich enough.
We cannot fight for love, as men may do; we shou'd be woo'd, and were not made to woo
Be wise as thou art cruel, do not press My tongue-tied patience with too much disdain: Lest sorrow lend me words and words express, The manner of my pity-wanting pain.
Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him? - Lady Macbeth