Suit the action to the word, the word to the action; with this special observance, that you o'erstep not the modesty of nature.

Faith, I have heard too much; for your words and performances are no kin together.

There is no virtue like necessity.

There's small choice in rotten apples.

Our wills and fates do so contrary run, that our devices still are overthrown; our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own.

As black as Vulcan in the smoke of war.

Give thy thoughts no tongue.