As black as Vulcan in the smoke of war.
Nothing can come of nothing.
My poor body, madam, requires it: I am driven on by the flesh; and he must needs go that the devil drives.
T is better to be lowly born, And range with humble livers in content, Than to be perked up in a glistering grief, And wear a golden sorrow.
It's easy for someone to joke about scars if they've never been cut.
How now, my sweet creature of bombast! How long is't ago, Jack, since thou saw'st thien own knee?