Thou breeze, That mak'st an organ of the mighty sea, Obedient to thy wilful phantasies, Provoke him not to scorn; but soft and low, As pious maid awakes her aged sire, On tiptoe stealing, whisper in his ear The tidings of the young god's victory.
Thou dost conspire against thy friend, Iago, If thou but think'st him wrong'd and mak'st his ear A stranger to thy thoughts.william shakespeare
Envy not greatness: for thou mak'st thereby Thyself the worse, and so the distance greater.George Herbert
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