Have you not love enough to bear with me, when that rash humor which my mother gave me makes me forgetful.
Perseverance... keeps honor bright: to have done, is to hang quite out of fashion, like a rusty nail in monumental mockery.
Do not spread the compost on the weeds.
They are hare-brain'd slaves.
The pleasing punishment that women bear.
Present fears are less than horrible imaginings.