No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp,

And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee

Where thrift may follow fawning.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 2.

Thrift, thrift, Horatio! the funeral baked meats

Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables.

Would I had met my dearest foe in heaven

Or ever I had seen that day.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 2.