Could my griefs speak, the tale would have no end.
Love reigns a very tyrant in my heart.
The worst thing an old man can be is a lover.
Shining through tears, like April suns in showers, that labor to overcome the cloud that loads em.
Justice is lame as well as blind, amongst us.
Cowards are scared with threatenings; boys are whipped into confession; but a steady mind acts of itself, ne'er asks the body counsel.