The Robbed That Smiles, Steals

The Thorny Point Of Bare Distress Hath Ta'en From Me The Show Of Smooth Civility; Yet Am I Inland Bred And Know Some Nurture.

Look On Beauty, And You Shall See 'tis Purchased By The Weight.

There Are No Tricks In Plain And Simple Faith.

We Must Every One Be A Man Of His Own Fancy.

Indeed, Sir, He That Sleeps Feels Not The Toothache; But A Man That Were To Sleep Your Sleep, And A Hangman To Help Him To Bed, I Think He Would Change Places With His Officer; For Look You, Sir, You Know Not Which Way You Shall Go.