Who can be patient in extremes?

Thus weary of the world, away she hies, And yokes her silver doves; by whose swift aid Their mistress mounted through the empty skies In her light chariot quickly is convey'd; Holding their course to Paphos, where their queen Means to immure herself and not be seen.

The third day comes a frost, a killing frost.

He was ever precise in promise-keeping.

This we prescribe, though no physician; Deep malice makes too deep incision; Forget, forgive; conclude and be agreed; Our doctors say this is no month to bleed.

Et tu Brute! (You too, Brutus!)

The law hath not been dead, though it hath slept.