Just death, kind umpire of men's miseries.
Hell is empty and all the devils are here.
There is little choice in a barrel of rotten apples.
A maiden hath no tongue--but thought.
Some report a sea-maid spawn'd him; some that he was begot between two stock-fishes. But it is certain that when he makes water his urine is congealed ice.
How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds makes ill deeds done!