Thrust your head into the public street, to gaze on Christian fools with varnish'd faces.

Men from children nothing differ.

All pity choked with custom of fell deeds.

And oft, my jealousy shapes faults that are not.

Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand?

Time is the old justice that examines all such offenders, and let Time try.

The devil shall have his bargain; for he was never yet a breaker of proverbs--he will give the devil his due.