Look to her, Moor, if thou has eyes to see. She has deceived her father, and may thee.
Look to her, Moor, if thou has eyes to see. She has deceived her father, and may thee.
Rude am I in my speech, And little blessed with the soft phrase of peace.
The robb'd that smiles, steals something from the thief; He robs himself that spends a bootless grief.
This look of thine will hurl my soul from heaven.
Thou weigh'st thy words before thou givest them breath.
Tis in ourselves that we are thus or thus. Our bodies are our gardens, to the which our wills are gardeners: so that if we will plant nettles, or sow lettuce, set hyssop and weed up tine, supply it with one gender of herbs, or distract it with many, either to have it sterile with idleness, or manured with industry, why, the power and corrigible authority of this lies in our wills.
Tis within ourselves that we are thus or thus
And what's he then that says I play the villain?
I never yet did hear, That the bruis'd heart was pierced through the ear
I would not put a thief in my mouth to steal my brains.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories