I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon, Than such a Roman.

Thou call'st me dog before thou hadst a cause, But since I am a dog, beware my fangs.

As full of spirit as the month of May, and as gorgeous as the sun in Midsummer.

To loathe the taste of sweetness, whereof little more than a little is by much too much.

Trust not your daughter's minds By what you see them act.

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

Such as we are made of, such we be.