So full of artless jealousy is guilt, It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.

When once our grace we have forgot, Nothing goes right.

I see, sir, you are liberal in offers. You taught me first to beg, and now methinks You teach me how a beggar should be answered.

Nothing can seem foul to those who win.

Not all the water in the rough rude sea Can wash the balm from an anointed King.

Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted colour off ... Do not for ever with thy vailed lids Seek for thy noble father in the dust.

If your mind dislike anything obey it