āSweet flowers are slow and weeds make haste.ā
āGet thee to a nunnery.ā
āWolves and bears, they say, casting their savagery aside, have done like offices of pity.ā
āWhat, no more ceremony? See, my women! Against the blown rose may they stop their nose That kneel'd unto the buds.ā
āI am not bound to please thee with my answer.ā
āAway, you cut-purse rascal! you filthy bung, away! By this wine, I'll thrust my knife in your mouldy chaps, an you play the saucy cuttle with me. Away, you bottle-ale rascal! you basket-hilt stale juggler, you!ā
āBest men oft are moulded out of faults.ā
āA pal is one that is aware you while you are, understands where you have already been, accepts whatever you are becoming, and continue to, carefully means that you can develop.ā
āSmall herbs have grace, great weeds do grow apace.ā