Shall Nature, erring from her first command, self-preservation, fall by her own hand?

Of all the kind of pains, the greatest pain is to love and to love in vain.

Shall Nature, erring from her first command, self-preservation, fall by her own hand?

Who to a woman trusts his peace of mind, Trusts a frail bark, with a tempestuous wind.

Of all the plagues with which the world is curst, Of every ill, a woman is the worst.

There is no heaven like mutual love.

Patience is the virtue of an ass, who treads beneath his burden and complains not.