The first thing we do, let's kill all the lawyers.
My only love sprung from my only hate.
He draweth out the thread of his verbosity finer than the staple of his argument.
Dispute not with her: she is lunatic.
I never yet did hear, That the bruis'd heart was pierced through the ear
To loathe the taste of sweetness, whereof little more than a little is by much too much.