Man may his fate foresee, but not prevent. 'Tis better to be fortunate than wise.

Sorrow is held the eldest child of sin.

Woman to man Is either a God or a wolfe.

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.

In all our quest of greatness, like wanton boys, whose pastime is their care, we follow after bubbles, blown in the air.

Glories, like glow-worms, afar off shine bright, But looked to near, have neither heat nor light.

Ambition, madam, is a great man's madness.