Women being the weaker vessels, are ever thrust to the walls.
My language! heavens!I am the best of them that speak this speech. Were I but where 'tis spoken.
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already sick and pale with grief That thou, her maid, art far more fair than she. . . .
Love hath made thee a tame snake
Temptation is the fire that brings up the scum of the heart.
For death remembered should be like a mirror, Who tells us life’s but breath, to trust it error.