Who soars too near the sun, with golden wings, melts them.
Beware the ides of March.
My love is strengthen'd, though more weak in seeming; I love not less, though less the show appear: That love is merchandised whose rich esteeming The owner's tongue doth publish every where.
A very little thief of occasion will rob you of a great deal of patience.
I have very poor and unhappy brains for drinking.
So wise so young, they say, do never live long.