'tis Pride That Pulls The Country Down.

Here Comes Monseiur Le Beau. Rosalind: With His Mouth Full Of News. Celia: Which He Will Put On Us, As Pigeons Feed Their Young. Rosalind: Then Shall We Be News-crammed. Celia: All The Better; We Shall Be The More Marketable.

Golden Lads And Girls All Must As Chimney Sweepers Come To Dust.

I Never Yet Did Hear, That The Bruis'd Heart Was Pierced Through The Ear

I Am A Man More Sinned Against Than Sinning

I Thank God I Am Not A Woman, To Be Touched In So Many Giddy Offences As He Hath Generally Taxed Their Whole Their Whole Sex Withal.