Our foster-nurse of nature is repose. One pain is lessen'd by another's anguish. One desperate grief cures with another's languish. Our wills and fates do so contrary run, That our devices still are overthrown. Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own. Oft 'tis seen, the wicked prize itself Our bodies are our gardens, to the which our wills are gardeners. Oh, that men should put an enemy in their mouths to stea away their brains! Patches, set upon a little breach, Discredit more, in hiding of the fault, Past, and to come, seem best; things present, worst. Pirates may make cheap pennyworths of their pillage.. Pleasure and revenge Have ears more deaf than adders to the voice Of any true decision. Pride hath no other glass To shew itself, but pride. Perseverance Keeps honour bright; to have done, is to hang Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail In monumental mockery. Pity is the virtue of the law, And none but tyrants use it cruelly. Pitchers have ears. Plenty, and peace, breeds cowards; hardness ever Of hardiness is mother. Proper deformity seems not in the fiend Plate sin with gold, And the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks : Arm it in rags, a pigmy's straw doth pierce it. Pleasure and action make the hours seem short. Poor, and content, is rich, and rich enough; |