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Custom will reconcile people to any atrocity; and fashion will drive them to acquire any custom.

I will chide no breather in the world but myself, against whom I know most faults.

They were all like one another as halfpence are, every one fault seeming monstrous till his fellow-fault came to match it.

Chide him for faults, and do it reverently, When you perceive his blood inclined to mirth, But, being moody, give him time and scope, Till that his passions, like a whale on ground, Confound themselves with working.

There's language in her eye, her cheek, her lip; Nay, her foot speaks.

Here comes the lady. O, so light a foot Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint.

This night I hold an old accustomed feast, Whereto I have invited many a guest, Such as I love; and you among the store, One more, most welcome, makes my number more.

O, where is loyalty? If it be banished from the frosty head, Where shall it find a harbor in the earth?

You draw me, you hard-hearted adamant! But yet you draw not iron, for my heart Is true as steel.

A little fire is quickly trodden out; Which, being suffer'd, rivers cannot quench.

The fire i' th' flint Shows not till it be struck; our gentle flame Provokes itself and like the current flies Each bound it chafes.

Fire that's closest kept burns most of all.

Mine eyes Were not in fault, for she was beautiful; Mine ears, that heard her flattery; nor my heart, That thought her like her seeming. It had been vicious To have mistrusted her.

Nay, do not think I flatter. For what advancement may I hope from thee, That no revenue hast but thy good spirits To feed and clothe thee? Why should the poor be flattered? No, let the candied tongue like absurd pomp, And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee Where thrift may follow fawning.

If he be so resolved, I can o'ersway him; for he loves to hear That unicorns may be betrayed with trees And bears with glasses, elephants with holes, Lions with toils, and men with flatterers, He says he does, being then most flattered.

By God, I cannot flatter, I do defy The tongues of soothers! but a braver place In my heart's love hath no man than yourself. Nay, task me to my word; approve me, lord.

What drink'st thou oft, instead of homage sweet, But poisoned flattery?

O that men's ears should be To counsel deaf but not to flattery!

They do not abuse the king that flatter him. For flattery is the bellows blows up sin; The thing the which is flattered, but a spark To which that blast gives heat and stronger glowing; Whereas reproof, obedient and in order, Fits kings as they are men, for they may err.

Take no repulse, whatever she doth say; For 'get you gone,' she doth not mean 'away.' Flatter and praise, commend, extol their graces; Though ne'er so black, say they have angels' faces. That man that hath a tongue, I say is no man, If with his tongue he cannot win a woman.