I durst not laugh for fear of opening my lips and receiving the bad air.
They say best men are molded out of faults, And, for the most, become much more the better For being a little bad
The ides of March are come. Soothsayer: Ay, Caesar; but not gone.
And sleep, that sometime shuts up sorrow's eye, Steal me awhile from mine own company.
Men's vows are women's traitors
Macduff: What three things does drink especially provoke? Porter: Marry, sir, nose-painting, sleep, and urine.