Cry, 'Havoc and let slip the dogs of war.
Cry, 'Havoc and let slip the dogs of war.
I had rather have a fool to make me merry than experience to make me sad and to travel for it too!
There's little of the melancholy element in her, my lord. She is never sad but when she sleeps, and not ever sad then for I have heard my daughter say she hath often dreamt of unhappiness and waked herself with laughing.
Ay, hand from hand, my love, and heart from heart.
I can no longer live by thinking.
My reason, the physician to my love,
Angry that his prescriptions are not kept,
Hath left me, and I desperate now approve
Desire is death, which physic did except.
Put up thy sword betime;
Or I'll so maul you and your toasting-iron
That you shall think the devil is come from hell.
O how wretched is that poor man that hangs on princes favors There is betwixt that smile we would aspire to, that sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, more pangs and fears than wars or women have, and when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, never to hope again.
This touches me in reputation.
No, no 'tis all men's office to speak patience To those that wring under the load of sorrow, But no man's virtue nor sufficiency To be so moral when he shall endure The like himself. Therefore give me no counsel My griefs cry louder than advertisement.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories