O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth, / That I am meek and gentle with these butchers!

'Tis better to bear the ills we have than fly to others that we know not of.

A jest's prosperity lies in the ear

Gold--what can it not do, and undo?

Let the galled jade wince; our withers are unwrung.

And will he not come again? And will he not come again? No, no, he is dead. Go to thy deathbed. He never will come again.

Gentle and low, an excellent thing in woman.