William Shakespeare

So full of artless jealousy is guilt, It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.

So full of artless jealousy is guilt, It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.

Why, 'a stalks up and down like a peacock--a stride and a stand;
ruminates like an hostess that hath read more

Why, 'a stalks up and down like a peacock--a stride and a stand;
ruminates like an hostess that hath no arithmetic but her brain
to set down her reckoning; bites his lip with a politic regard,
as who should say, 'There were wit in this head an 'twould out';
and so there is, but it lies as coldly in him as fire in a flint,
which will not show without knocking.

There is a tide in the affairs of men,
Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;
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There is a tide in the affairs of men,
Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;
Omitted, all the voyage of their life
Is bound in shallows and in miseries.

For 'tis the sport to have the enginer
Hoist with his own petar, and 't shall go hard
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For 'tis the sport to have the enginer
Hoist with his own petar, and 't shall go hard
But I will delve one yard below their mines
And blow them at the moon.

He that is strucken blind cannot forget
The precious treasure of his eyesight lost.

He that is strucken blind cannot forget
The precious treasure of his eyesight lost.