Jealousy is the jaundice of the soul.
Fortune's unjust; she ruins oft the brave, and him who should be victor, makes the slave.
Bold knaves thrive without one grain of sense, But good men starve for want of impudence.
I am devilishly afraid, that's certain; but ... I'll sing, that I may seem valiant.
They first condemn that first advised the ill.
When he spoke, what tender words he used! So softly, that like flakes of feathered snow, They melted as they fell.