That power Which erring men call Chance.
Enjoy your dear wit and gay rhetoric, That hath so well been taught her dazzling fence.
So may'st thou live, till like ripe fruit thou drop Into thy mother's lap.
Where eldest Night And Chaos, ancestors of Nature, hold Eternal anarchy amidst the noise Of endless wars, and by confusion stand; For hot, cold, moist, and dry, four champions fierce, Strive here for mast'ry.
From his lips/Not words alone pleased her.
I will not allow my daughters to learn foreign languages because one tongue is sufficient for a woman.