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The Divell divides the world between Atheisme and Superstition.
The Divell divides the world between Atheisme and Superstition.
'Tis strange, but true: for truth is always strange;
Stranger than fiction.
'Tis strange, but true: for truth is always strange;
Stranger than fiction.
The burnt child dreads the fire.
The burnt child dreads the fire.
But neither bended knees, pure hands held up,
Sad sighs, deep groans, nor silver-shedding tears,
Could penetrate read more
But neither bended knees, pure hands held up,
Sad sighs, deep groans, nor silver-shedding tears,
Could penetrate her uncompassionate sire.
The rose is fairest when 'tis budding new.
The rose is fairest when 'tis budding new.
He that sends a foole expects one.
He that sends a foole expects one.
Wood halfe burnt is easily kindled.
Wood halfe burnt is easily kindled.
When sorrows come, they come not single spies,
But in battalions: first, her father slain;
Next, your read more
When sorrows come, they come not single spies,
But in battalions: first, her father slain;
Next, your son gone, and he most violent author
Of his own just remove; the people muddied,
Thick and unwholesome in their thoughts and whispers
For good Polonius' death, and we have done but greenly
In hugger-mugger to inter him; poor Ophelia
Divided from herself and her fair judgment,
Without the which we are pictures or mere beasts;
Last, and as much containing as all these,
Her brother is in secret come from France,
Feeds on his wonder, keeps himself in clouds,
And wants not buzzers to infect his ear
With pestilent speeches of his father's death,
Wherein necessity, of matter beggared,
Will nothing stick our person to arraign
In ear and ear.
