The general's disdained By him one step below, he by the next, The next by him beneath; so every step, Exampled by the first pace that is sick Of his superior, grows to an envious fever Of pale and bloodless emulation: And 'tis this fever that keeps Troy on foot, Not her own sinews.

William Shakespeare

William Shakespeare

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Oh, what a bitter thing it is to look into happiness through another man's eyes.

— William Shakespeare

Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already sick and pale with grief That thou her maid art far more fair than she. Be not her maid, since she is envious. Her vestal livery is but sick and green, And none but fools do wear it. Cast it off.

— William Shakespeare

Not on thy sole, but on thy soul, harsh Jew, Thou mak'st thy knife keen; but no metal can-- No, not the hangman's axe--bear half the keenness Of thy sharp envy.

— William Shakespeare

We make ourselves fools to disport ourselves And spend our flatteries to drink those men Upon whose age we void it up again With poisonous spite and envy.

— William Shakespeare

My mind gave me, In seeking tales and informations Against this man, whose honesty the devil And his disciples only envy at, Ye blew the fire that burns ye: now have at ye!

— William Shakespeare