Kiss till the cow comes home.
There's nothing that allays an angry mind So soon as a sweet beauty.
Nothing's so dainty sweet as lovely melancholy.
Bad's the best of us.
Who doubting tyranny, and fainting under Fortune's false lottery, desperately run To death, for dread of death; that soul's most stout, That, bearing all mischance, dares last it out.
As high as Heaven, as deep as Hell.