The devil knew what he did when he made men politic; he crossed himself by it.
Words, words, mere words, no matter from the heart.
I was born free as Caesar; so were you
O, let me kiss that hand! KING LEAR: Let me wipe it first; it smells of mortality.
What's to come is still unsure: In delay there lies no plenty; Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty, Youth's a stuff will not endure.
Sweet are the uses of adversity which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, wears yet a precious jewel in his head.