Base natures ever judge a thing above them, and hate a power they are too much obliged to.
Could my griefs speak, the tale would have no end.
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.
No praying, it spoils business.
Honest men are the soft easy cushions on which knaves repose and fatten.
Children blessings seem, but torments are.