Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him? - Lady Macbeth
The path is smooth that leadeth on to danger.
Report me and my cause aright.
My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that color.
In struggling with misfortunes lies the true proof of virtue.
My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind; So flew'd, so sanded; their heads are hung with ears that sweep away the morning dew.