I am a fool, I know it; and yet, Heaven help me, I'm poor enough to be a wit.
They are at the end of the gallery; retired to their tea and scandal, according to their ancient custom.
Nor Hell a Fury, like a Woman scorn'd.
Nothing but you can lay hold of my mind, and that can lay hold of nothing but you.
One minute gives invention to destroy; What to rebuild, will a whole age employ.
If happiness in self-content is placed, The wise are wretched, and fools only blessed.