Virtue in distress, and vice in triumph make atheists of mankind.

He was exhaled; his great Creator drew His spirit, as the sun the morning dew.

The blushing beauties of a modest maid.

Fattened in vice, so callous and so gross, he sins and sees not, senseless of his loss.

Fortune, that with malicious joyDoes man her slave oppress,Proud of her office to destroy,Is seldom pleasd to bless.

Let grace and goodness be the principal loadstone of thy affections. For love which hath ends, will have an end; whereas that which is founded on true virtue, will always continue.

It's a hard world, neighbors, if a man's oath must be his master.