And some that smile have in their hearts, I fear, millions of mischiefs.

Have I thought long to see this morning’s face, And doth it give me such a sight as this?

I hold my peace, sir? no; No, I will speak as liberal as the north; Let heaven and men and devils, let them all, All, all, cry shame against me, yet I'll speak.

What made me love thee? let that persuade thee, there's something extraordinary in thee

Weariness can snore upon the flint when resting sloth finds the down pillow hard.

Security is the chief enemy of mortals.

Hold, or cut bowstrings.