Look, what a horse should have he did not lack, Save a proud rider on his back.
O teach me how I should forget to think (1.1.224)
O, grief hath changed me since you saw me last, And careful hours with Time's deformed hand Have written strange defeatures in my face. But tell me yet, dost thou not know my voice?
He that loves to be flattered is worthy o' the flatterer.
You dull ass will not mend his pace with beating.
Thou hast not half that power to do me harm As I have to be hurt.