I see a woman may be made a fool, If she had not a spirit to resist.

I am a man more sinned against than sinning

And thus I clothe my naked villainy With odd old ends stol'n out of holy writ; And seem a saint, when most I play the devil.

Weariness can snore upon the flint when resting sloth finds the down pillow hard.

All difficulties are easy when they are known.

It is the cowish terror of his spirit that dares not undertake; he'll not feel wrongs which tie him to an answer.

The bitter clamor of two eager tongues.