When lenity and cruelty play for a kingdom, the gentler gamester is the soonest winner

My brain more busy than the labouring spider Weaves tedious snares to trap mine enemies.

Lady, you know no rules of charity, Which renders good for bad, blessings for curses.

My heart is turned to stone; I strike it, and it hurts my hand.

O God, O God, how weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable seem to me all the uses of this world!

The proverb is something musty.

But thought's the slave of life, and life time's fool.