You speak an infinite deal of nothing.
So well thy words become thee as thy wounds.
Thou hast seen a farmer's dog bark at a beggar? And the creature run from the cur. There thou mightst behold the great image of authority-a dog's obeyed in office.
If people knew how much I hated them, they'd love me for holding it in.
Every inordinate cup is unbless'd, and the ingredient is a devil.
I am not mad; I would to heaven I were! For then, 'tis like I should forget myself; O, if I could, what grief should I forget!