No man who knows aught, can be so stupid to deny that all men naturally were born free.
In God's intention, a meet and happy conversation is the chiefest and noblest end of marriage.
With ruin upon ruin, rout on rout, Confusion worse confounded.
Beauty is God's handwriting-a wayside sacrament.
Luck is the residue of design.
A poet soaring in the high reason of his fancies, with his garland and singing robes about him.