āFaults that are rich are fair.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
āHave you not love enough to bear with me, when that rash humor which my mother gave me makes me forgetful.ā
āA human being should beware how he laughs, for then he shows all his faults.ā
āWhen something goes wrong, accuse yourself first. Even the wisdom of Plato or Solomon can wobble and go blindā