So we'll live, And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh at gilded butterflies.

A hand as fruitful as the land that feeds us; His dew falls everywhere.

This is a way to kill a wife with kindness.

Too nice, and yet too true!

Having my freedom, boast of nothing else.

This is a gift that I have, simple, simple; a foolish extravagant spirit full of forms, figures, shapes, objects, ideas, apprehensions, motions, revolutions; these are begot in the ventricle of memory, nourished in the womb of pia mater, and delivered upon the mellowing of occasion.

For who so firm that cannot be seduced?