Our doubts are traitors, And make us lose the good we oft might win Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm, More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn, Than women's are. Our natures do pursue (Like rats that ravin down their proper bane) A thirsty evil; and when we drink, we die. Ourselves we do not owe:* What is decreed, must be. O place! O form! How often dost thou with thy case, thy habit, Wrench awe from fools, and tie the wiser souls To thy false seeming! Outward courtesies would fain proclaim * Owe, own. One doth not know How much an ill word may empoison liking. One man holding troth, A million fail, confounding oath on oath. Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, Oft our displeasures, to ourselves unjust, Destroy our friends, and after weep their dust. On our quick'st decrees Th' inaudible and noiseless foot of time Steals, ere we can effect them. Oft expectation fails, and most oft there Where it most promises; and oft it hits Where hope is coldest, and despair most sits. Our rash faults Make trivial price of serious things we have, Not knowing them until we know their grave. Our cake 's dough on both sides. One good deed, dying tongueless, Slaughters a thousand waiting upon that. Oftentimes, to win us to our harm, Oftentimes, excusing of a fault Doth make the fault the worse by the excuse. One sudden foil should never breed distrust. One touch of nature makes the whole world kin. Omission to do what is necessary Seals a commission to a blank of danger; One bear will not bite another. O, that men's ears should be One fire drives out one fire; one nail, one nail; Rights by rights fouler, strengths by strengths do fail. Often, to our comfort, shall we find Our courtiers say, all's savage but at court: Th' imperious seas breed monsters; for the dish, Our very eyes are sometimes like our judgments, blind. One sorrow never comes, but brings an heir Opinion's but a fool, that makes us scan |