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Men at some time are masters of their fates.
The fault, dear Brutus, is not is our stars,
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Men at some time are masters of their fates.
The fault, dear Brutus, is not is our stars,
But in ourselves, that we are underlings.
The eye is bigger then the belly.
[The eye is bigger than the belly.]
The eye is bigger then the belly.
[The eye is bigger than the belly.]
To his tuned spirit the wild heather-bells
Ring Sabbath knells;
The sod's a cushion for his pious read more
To his tuned spirit the wild heather-bells
Ring Sabbath knells;
The sod's a cushion for his pious want,
And, consecrated by the heaven within it,
The sky-blue pool a font.
And gentle Dulness ever loves a joke.
And gentle Dulness ever loves a joke.
Hold on, and wait for the grasshoppers. [Wait for better times.]
Hold on, and wait for the grasshoppers. [Wait for better times.]
Behold him in conceited circles sail,
Strutting and dancing and now planted stiff,
In all his pomp read more
Behold him in conceited circles sail,
Strutting and dancing and now planted stiff,
In all his pomp of pageantry, as if
He felt the eyes of Europe on his tail.
He who preserves a man's life against his will does the same
thing as if he slew him.
He who preserves a man's life against his will does the same
thing as if he slew him.
