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.

Shining through tears, like April suns in showers, that labor to overcome the cloud that loads em.

Dame Fortune, like most others of the female sex, is generally most indulgent to the nimble-mettled blockheads.

Justice is lame as well as blind, amongst us.

No praying, it spoils business.

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

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