Love reigns a very tyrant in my heart.

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

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.

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.

Honest men are the soft easy cushions on which knaves repose and fatten.

Justice is lame as well as blind, amongst us.