Now get you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to this favour she must come; make her laugh at that.
Nothing comes from doing nothing.
For which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me?
Throw physic to the dogs; I'll none of it.
O, let me kiss that hand! KING LEAR: Let me wipe it first; it smells of mortality.
The art of our necessities is strange That can make vile things precious.