Desire of having is the sin of covetousness.
William Shakespeare
Profession: Dramatist Nationality: British
Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice.
Why, there's no remedy; 'tis the curse of service, Preferment goes by letter and affection, And not by old gradation, where each second Stood heir to the first. Now, sir, be judge yourself Whether I in any just term am affin'd To love the Moor.
Love thrives not in the heart that shadows dreadeth.
The Fears as bad as the Falling....
The Moor is of a free and open nature, That thinks men honest that but seem to be so; And will as tenderly be led by the nose As asses are.
Enter Dogberry and.
Ye have angels' faces, but heaven knows your hearts.
I was adored once too.
Age, thou hast lost thy labor.
O mischief, thou art swift to enter in the hearts of desperate men!
How pregnant sometimes his replies are. A happiness that often madness hits on, which reason and sanity could not so prosperously be delivered of.
Though this be madness, yet there is method in't.
Why should I play the Roman fool and die On mine own sword? Whiles I see lives, the gashes Do better upon them.
And, noble signior, If virtue no delighted beauty lack, Your son-in-law is far more fair than black.