Fortune, that with malicious joyDoes man her slave oppress,Proud of her office to destroy,Is seldom pleasd to bless.
Great wits are sure to madness near allied, and thin partitions do their bounds divide.
As one that neither seeks, nor shuns his foe.
Time glides with undiscover'd haste; The future but a length behind the past.
For your ignorance is the mother of your devotion to me.
A knock-down argument; 'tis but a word and a blow.