Good wombs have borne bad sons.
More Quotes from William Shakespeare:Thy love is better than high birth to me,
Richer than wealth, prouder than garments' costs,
Of more delight than hawks and horses be;
And having thee, of all men's pride I boast-
Wretched in this alone, that thou mayst take,
All this away and me most wretched make.
Well could I curse away a winter's night,Though standing naked on a mountain top,Where biting cold would never let grass grow,And think it but a minute spent in sport.
Faith, we hear fearful news.
Death, lie thou there, by a dead man interr'd.
My tongue-tied Muse in manners holds her still,
While comments of your praise, richly compiled,
Reserve their character with golden quill,
And precious phrase by all the Muses filed.
This is the excellent foppery of the world that when we are sick in fortune -- often the surfeits of our own behavior -- we make guilty of our disasters the sun, the moon, and stars, as if we were villains on necessity, fools by heavenly compulsion, knaves, thieves, and treachers by spherical predominance, drunkards, liars, and adulterers by an enforced obedience of planetary influence. An admirable evasion of whoremaster man, to lay his goatish disposition on the charge of a star.
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