A Fusty Nut With No Kernel.

Zounds! I Was Never So Bethumped With Words Since I First Called My Brother's Father Dad.

Self-love, My Liege, Is Not So Vile A Sin, As Self-neglecting.

The Iron Tongue Of Midnight Hath Told Twelve Lovers, To Bed; 'tis Almost Fairy Time. I Fear We Shall Outstep The Coming Morn As Much As We This Night Over-watch'd.

There Live Not Three Good Men Unhanged In England; And One Of Them Is Fat And Grows Old.

The Hind That Would Be Mated By The Lion Must Die For Love.