We must love men, ere to us they will seem worthy of our love.
True, I talk of dreams, Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy.
Glory grows guilty of detested crimes.
Men's vows are women's traitors
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks within his bending sickle's compass come.
See first that the design is wise and just: that ascertained, pursue it resolutely; do not for one repulse forego the purpose that you resolved to effect.