Folly is the cloak of knavery.

A knave, a rascal, an eater of broken meats; a base, proud, shallow, beggarly, three-suited, hundred-pound, filthy worsted-stocking knave; a lily-livered, action-faking, whoreson, glass-gazing, superserviceable, finical rogue; one-trunk-inheriting slave; one that wouldst be a bawd in way of good service, and art nothing but the composition of a knave, beggar, coward, pander, and the son and heir of a mongrel bitch; one whom I will beat into clamorous whining if thou deny'st the least syllable of thy addition.

There's never a villain dwelling in all Denmark But he's an arrant knave.

Whip me such honest knaves!

The hours of folly are measur’d by the clock, but of wisdom: no clock can measure.

The hours of folly are measured by the clock; but of wisdom, no clock can measure.