He wears his faith but as the fashion of his hat; it ever changes with the next block.
Before the time I did Lysander see, Seemed Athens as a paradise to me. O then, what graces in my love do dwell, That he hath turned a heaven unto a hell?
Some say that ever 'gainst that season comes Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated, This bird of dawning singeth all night long, And then they say no spirit dare stir abroad, The nights are wholesome, then no planets strike, No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm, So hallowed, and so gracious, is that time.
The fewer men, the greater share of honor.
I pray thee now, tell me for which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me?
My endeavors Have ever come too short of my desires. Yet filed with my abilities.
Where two raging fires meet together, They do consume the thing that feeds their fury. Though little fire grows great with little wind, Yet extreme gusts will blow out fire and all.
Ghost. The serpent that did sting thy father's life Now wears his crown. Hamlet. O my prophetic soul! My uncle? Ghost. Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate beast.
He was disposed to mirth, but on the sudden A Roman thought hath struck him.
Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, Which we ascribe to heaven.