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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.
Something attempted, something done
Has earned a night's repose.
Something attempted, something done
Has earned a night's repose.
If you loose your time, you cannot get mony nor gaine.
If you loose your time, you cannot get mony nor gaine.
Is the sun dimmed, that gnats do fly in it?
Is the sun dimmed, that gnats do fly in it?
A smiling face is half the meal.
A smiling face is half the meal.
When modesty has once perished, it will never revive.
When modesty has once perished, it will never revive.
If the fish had not opened its mouth, it would not have been
caught.
If the fish had not opened its mouth, it would not have been
caught.
Nothing stings us so bitterly as the loss of money.
Nothing stings us so bitterly as the loss of money.
