Then hate me when thou wilt, if ever, now.

If after every tempest come such calms, May the winds blow till they have waken'd death!

Sick in the world's regard, wretched and low.

This man, lady, hath robb'd many beasts of their particular additions: he is as valiant as a lion, churlish as the bear, slow as the elephant-a man into whom nature hath so crowded humours that his valour is crush'd into folly, his folly sauced with discretion.

When a father gives to his son, both laugh; when a son gives to his father, both cry.

And where the offense is, let the great axe fall.

Confusion now hath made his masterpiece.