I bear a charmed life.
I am not only witty in myself, but the cause that wit is in other men.
I am not mad: I would to heaven I were! For then, ’tis like I should forget myself.
I am not bound to please thee with my answer.
I am a man more sinn’d against than sinning.
I ‘gin to be aweary of the sun, and wish the estate o’ the world were now undone.
How sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is to have a thankless child!
How poor are they that have not Patience? What wound did ever heal but by degrees?
How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds, Makes deeds ill done!
How goes it now, sir? This news which is called true is so like an old tale that the verity of it is in strong suspicion.
How far that little candle throws his beams! So shines a good deed in a naughty world.
How every fool can play upon the word! I think the best grace of wit will shortly turn into silence, and discourse grow commendable in none only but parrots.
