Base natures ever judge a thing above them, and hate a power they are too much obliged to.

No flattery, boy! an honest man cannot live by it; it is a little, sneaking art, which knaves use to cajole and soften fools withal.

Clocks will go as they are set, but man, irregular man, is never constant, never certain.

Oh woman! lovely woman! nature made thee To temper man; we had been brutes without you; Angels are painted fair to look like you; There's in you all that we believe of heaven, Amazing brightness, purity, and truth, Eternal joy, and everlasting love.

No praying, it spoils business.

Ambition is a lust that is never quenched, but grows more inflamed and madder by enjoyment.

Could my griefs speak, the tale would have no end.