Here feel we but the penalty of Adam,
The season's difference; as the icy phang,
And churlish chiding of the Winter's wind,
Which when it bites and blows upon my body,
Ev'n 'till I shrink with cold, I smile and say,
'This is no flattery: these are counsellors,
That feelingly persuade me what I am.'
-- William Shakespeare, As You Like It, Act II, Scene 1