Take heed, dear heart, of this large privilege; The hardest knife ill-used doth lose his edge.
William ShakespeareSay she rail; why, I'll tell her plain She sings as sweetly as a nightingale. Say that she frown; I'll say she looks as clear As morning roses newly wash'd with dew. Say she be mute and will not speak a word; Then I'll commend her volubility, and say she uttereth piercing eloquence.
William Shakespeare