When we are born, we cry, that we are come To this great stage of fools.

Assume a virtue, if you have it not.

I pray thee cease thy counsel, Which falls into mine ears as profitless as water in a sieve.

For they are yet ear-kissing arguments.

I must be cruel only to be kind; Thus bad begins, and worse remains behind.

Thou art all the comfort, The Gods will diet me with.

Thy words, I grant are bigger, for I wear not, my dagger in my mouth.