We will all laugh at gilded butterflies.
It will have blood, they say; blood will have blood.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May.
What is honour? a word. What is in that word honour? what is that honour? air. A trim reckoning! Who hath it? he that died o' Wednesday. Doth he feel it? no. Doth he hear it? no.
To England will I steal, and there I'll steal.
When you fear a foe, fear crushes your strength; and this weakness gives strength to your opponents.