Now I perceive the devil understands Welsh, and ’tis no marvel he is so humorous.
Now ’tis the spring, and weeds are shallow-rooted; suffer them now, and they’ll o’ergrow the garden and choke the herbs for want of husbandry.
Nought’s had, all’s spent, where our desire is got without content.
Not stepping o’er the bounds of modesty.
No, madam, ’tis not so well that I am poor, though many of the rich are damned.
No, I’ll not weep: I have full cause of weeping; but this heart Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws, Or ere I’ll weep.
No, I will be the pattern of all patience; I will say nothing.
No legacy is so rich as honesty.
News fitting to the night, black, fearful, comfortless, and horrible.
Neither a borrower nor a lender be, for loan oft loses both itself and friend.
Nay, but make haste! The better foot before!
Nature hath framed strange fellows in her time.
