Honor, without money, is a mere malady.
What does it matter if, by chance, a little vile blood be spilled?
Sir, that much prudence calls for too much worry; I cannot foresee misfortunes so far away.
Small crimes always precedes great ones.
Have there ever been more submissive slaves? Adoring, even in their irons, the God who punishes them.
None love, but they who wish to love.