He is not worthy of the honey-comb, that shuns the hives because the bees have stings.
The worm is not to be trusted.
A pox o’ your throat, you bawling, blasphemous, incharitable dog!
Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy.
And since you know you cannot see yourself, so well as by reflection, I, your glass, will modestly discover to yourself, that of yourself which you yet know not of.
If he be so resolved, I can o'ersway him; for he loves to hear That unicorns may be betrayed with trees And bears with glasses, elephants with holes, Lions with toils, and men with flatterers