Gold were as good as twenty orators.
Thou hast nor youth nor age But as it were an after dinner sleep Dreaming of both.
Who soars too near the sun, with golden wings, melts them.
A jest's prosperity lies in the ear
My affection hath an unknown bottom, like the Bay of Portugal.
With caution judge of probability. Things deemed unlikely, e'en impossible, experience oft hath proved to be true.