Nay, good brother, let it not trouble you thus.
— from Every Man in His Humor by Ben Jonson

Would you like it?" "No, thank you, I never eat anything now; but it is very kind of you, all the same, and you are much nicer than the rest of your horrid, rude, vulgar, dishonest family."
— from The Canterville Ghost by Oscar Wilde

had sent me as a token, by a recruit, just before he set out for Lisbon— —I never told your honour that piteous story yet—here Trim wiped his eyes a third time.
— from The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman by Laurence Sterne

The State hath given you license to stay on land, for the space of six weeks; and let it not trouble you, if your occasions ask further time, for the law in this point is not precise; and I do not doubt, but my self shall be able, to obtain for you such further time, as may be convenient.
— from New Atlantis by Francis Bacon

The number of people who can actually read, or will learn if now too young, for the various languages of the world appears to be as follows: Number in Millions Per Cent English 136 27.2 German 82 16.4 Chinese[A] 70 14.0 French 28 9.6 Russian 30 6.0 Arabic 25 5.0 Italian 18 4.6 Spanish 12 2.6 Scandinavian 11 2.2 Dutch and Flemish 9 1.9 Minor European[B] 34 6.8 Minor Asiatic[B] 16 3.2 Minor African and Polynesian [B] 2+ 0.5 Total 473+ 100.0 Note A: Not a spoken language, but a system of writing.
— from Introduction to the Science of Sociology by E. W. (Ernest Watson) Burgess

And let it not trouble you, that you have discovered any mysteries to this young gentleman: he is almost of years, and will make a good visitant within this twelvemonth.
— from Epicoene; Or, The Silent Woman by Ben Jonson

O sir, let it not trouble you.
— from The Complete Works of William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare

'Father,' she says, 'though in me you behold The injury of many a blasting hour, Let it not tell your judgement I am old: Not age, but sorrow, over me hath power.
— from The Complete Works of William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare

which my poor brother Tom (here Trim wip’d his eyes) had sent me 132 as a token, by a recruit, just before he set out for Lisbon —— ——I never told your honour that piteous story yet——here Trim wiped his eyes a third time.
— from The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman by Laurence Sterne

A toast for West and East Drink on this Thursday feast Last in November, The year when Albion’s lands Across the sea join hands— Drink and remember!
— from October, and Other Poems; with Occasional Verses on the War by Robert Bridges

"Nay, wife," the knight said gently, "the lad is not too young for such service.
— from At Agincourt by G. A. (George Alfred) Henty

Persuasion —which appeared with Northanger Abbey and which, curiously enough, has, like its nearly twenty years elder sister, Bath for its principal scene—has also some pretensions to primacy among the books, and is universally admitted to be of its author's most delicate, most finished, and most sustained work.
— from The English Novel by George Saintsbury

who shall count Thy generous friendship's claim, Whose blood ran mingling in the fount That gave our land its name, Till Yorktown saw in blended line Our conquering arms advance, And victory's double garlands twine Our banners?
— from The Poetical Works of Oliver Wendell Holmes — Volume 04: Songs in Many Keys by Oliver Wendell Holmes

“Brave captain, Let it not trouble you, But my daughter is not for you.
— from The Works of Balzac: A linked index to all Project Gutenberg editions by Honoré de Balzac

I owe it to Mr. Herbert Linley, if not to you, to confess that his life with me has not been a life of happiness.
— from The Evil Genius: A Domestic Story by Wilkie Collins

'Father,' she says, 'though in me you behold The injury of many a blasting hour, Let it not tell your judgement I am old; Not age, but sorrow, over me hath power: I might as yet have been a spreading flower, Fresh to myself, if I had self-applied Love to myself, and to no love beside.
— from A Lover's Complaint by William Shakespeare

A few guineas more or less is nothing to you.
— from What a Man Wills by Vaizey, George de Horne, Mrs.