Affection, mistress of passion, sways it to the mood of what it likes or loathes.
The head is not more native to the heart.
Proper deformity shows not in the fiend So horrid as in woman.
Tis no sin for a man to labor in his vocation.
Set your heart at rest. The fairyland buys not the child of me.
Well, heaven forgive him! and forgive us all! Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall: Some run from brakes of ice, and answer none: And some condemned for a fault alone.