Then was I as a tree whose boughs did bend with fruit; but in one night, a storm or robbery, call it what you will, shook down my mellow hangings, nay, my leaves, and left me bare to weather.

A smile cures the wounding of a frown.

Macduff: What three things does drink especially provoke? Porter: Marry, sir, nose-painting, sleep, and urine.

Art made tongue-tied by authority.

Good morrow, 'tis Saint Valentine's Day, All in the morn betime, And I a maid at your window, To be your valentine.

Take heed, dear heart, of this large privilege; The hardest knife ill-used doth lose his edge.

This goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory.