The misery of us, that are born great, We are forced to woo because none dare woo us.
The soul was never put in the body to stand still.
How many ills spring from adultery? First the supreme law that is violated, Nobility oft stain'd with bastardy, Inheritance of land falsely possessed, The husband scorn'd, wife sham'd, and babes unbless'd.
How tedious is a guilty conscience!
Sorrow is held the eldest child of sin.
I have long served virtue, And never ta'en wages of her.