Oh, the roast beef of England

Enough is equal to a feast.

The dusky night rides down the sky, And ushers in the morn; The hounds all join in glorious cry, The huntsman winds his horn, And a-hunting we will go.

Much may be said on both sides.

Oons, sir! do you say that I am drunk? I say, sir, that I am as sober as a judge.

Money is the fruit of evil as often as the root of it.

Depend on me; never fear your enemies. I'll warrant we make more noise than they.