Tis an ill cook that cannot lick his own fingers.

I cannot but remember such things were that were most precious to me.

Tempt not a desperate man

Good wombs have borne bad sons." -- (Miranda, I:2)

A plague on both your houses.

I never yet did hear, That the bruis'd heart was pierced through the ear

So we grew together like to a double cherry, seeming parted, but yet an union in partition, two lovely berries molded on one stem.