Tis the eye of childhood that fears a painted devil.
Is not birth, beauty, good shape, discourse, Manhood, learning, gentleness, virtue, youth, liberality, and such like, the spice and salt that season a man
Now join your hands, and with your hands your hearts.
O for a horse with wings!
O, what a world of vile ill-favored faults, looks handsome in three hundred pounds a year!
So are you to my thoughts as food to life, or as sweet seasoned showers are to the ground.