This day I breathèd first—time is come round, And where I did begin, there shall I end. My life is run his compass.
And Pity, like a naked newborn babe Striding the blast, or heaven's cherubin, horsed Upon the sightless couriers of the air, Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye, That tears shall drown the wind. I have no spur To prick the sides of my intent, but only Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself And falls on th' other—
I'll be revenged on the whole pack of you.
Maria. Not a word with him but a jest. Boyet. And every jest but a word.
Trifles light as air Are to the jealous confirmation strong As proofs of holy writ.
'Tis good for men to love their present pains Upon example; so the spirit is eased.
Despising, For you, the city, thus I turn my back; There is a world elsewhere.
Murder her brothers and then marry her— Uncertain way of gain, but I am in So far in blood that sin will pluck on sin.
We have scorched the snake, not killed it: She'll close and be herself.
Alonzo. What, all so soon asleep! I wish mine eyes Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts. I find They are inclined to do so. Sebastian. Please you, sir, Do not omit the heavy offer of it. It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth, It is a comforter.