Modest wisdom plucks me from over-credulous haste.
Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him? - Lady Macbeth
It is as easy to count atomies as to resolve the propositions of a lover.
The world is grown so bad, That wrens make prey where eagles dare not perch.
When that churl Death my bones with dust shall cover.
Extremity is the trier of spirits.