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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.
Let him be kept from paper, pen, and ink;
So may he cease to write, and learn to think.
Let him be kept from paper, pen, and ink;
So may he cease to write, and learn to think.
Not only ought fortune to be pictured on a wheel, but every thing
else in this world.
Not only ought fortune to be pictured on a wheel, but every thing
else in this world.
He makes no friend who never made a foe.
He makes no friend who never made a foe.
Good is god, but better carries it.
Good is god, but better carries it.
My bark, once struck by the fury of the storm, dreads again to
approach the place of danger.
My bark, once struck by the fury of the storm, dreads again to
approach the place of danger.
O I have lost my reputation! I have lost the immortal part, sir,
of myself, and what remains is read more
O I have lost my reputation! I have lost the immortal part, sir,
of myself, and what remains is bestial.
To review ones store is to mow twice.
To review ones store is to mow twice.
