Doubt thou the stars are fire; Doubt that the sun doth move; Doubt truth to be a liar; But never doubt I love.

where civil blood makes civil hands unclean

The latter end of a fray, and the beginning of a feast, Fits a dull fighter, and a keen guest.

I would challenge you to a battle of wits, but I see you are unarmed!

For I can raise no money by vile means. By heaven, I had rather coin my heart, And drop my blood for drachmas

Weariness can snore upon the flint when resting sloth finds the down pillow hard.

No profit grows where no pleasure is taken.