Never till this day
Saw I him touch'd with anger so distemper'd.
What fates impose, that men must needs abide;
It boots not to resist both wind and tide.
My stars shine darkly over
me: the malignancy of my fate might perhaps
How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is
To have a thankless child.
Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,
Grapple them unto thy soul with hoops of steel.
How many fond fools serve mad jealousy?
She would hang on him
As if increase of appetite had grown
By what it fed on.
They are in the very wrath of love, and they will together; clubs
cannot part them.
Oft have I heard that grief softens the mind,
And makes it fearful and degenerate;
Think therefore on revenge and cease to weep.
The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool