Time is the nurse and breeder of all good.

We must not make a scarecrow of the law, Setting it up to fear the birds of prey, And let it keep one shape till custom make it Their perch, and not their terror.

O, when she's angry, she is keen and shrewd! She was a vixen when she went to school; And though she be but little, she is fierce.

Slanders, sir, for the satirical rogue says here that old men have grey beards, that their faces are wrinkled, their eyes purging think amber and plum-tree gum, and that they have a plentiful lack of wit, together with most weak hams.

As flies to wanton boys, are we to the gods; they kill us for their sport.

Scratching could not make it worse, an't were such a face as yours were.

Bid me run, and I will strive with things impossible.