If after every tempest come such calms, May the winds blow till they have waken'd death!
It is the bright day that brings forth the adder, and that craves wary walking.
O, how full of briers is this working-day world!
Were't not for laughing, I should pity him.
Of one that lov'd not wisely but too well.
There was never yet fair woman but she made mouths in a glass.