Children blessings seem, but torments are.

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.

Justice is lame as well as blind, amongst us.

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

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

False as the adulterate promises of favorites in power when poor men court them.

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