No praying, it spoils business.
Children blessings seem, but torments are.
Could my griefs speak, the tale would have no end.
Shining through tears, like April suns in showers, that labor to overcome the cloud that loads em.
Honest men are the soft easy cushions on which knaves repose and fatten.
Dame Fortune, like most others of the female sex, is generally most indulgent to the nimble-mettled blockheads.