So full of artless jealousy is guilt, It spills itself in fearing to be spilt. - William Shakespeare

Why, what's the matter,
That you have such a February face,
So full of frost, of storm and cloudiness?

All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts.

To move is to stir, and to be valiant is to stand; therefore, if tou art mov'd, thou runst away. (To be angry is to move, to be brave is to stand still. Therefore, if you're angry, you'll run away.)