We do not keep the outward form of order, where there is deep disorder in the mind.
The tartness of his face sours ripe grapes.
If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me.
The pleasant'st angling is to see the fish Cut with her golden oars the silver stream And greedily devour the treacherous bait.
First Witch He knows thy thought: Hear his speech, but say thou nought.
Who is it can read a woman?