Prosperity's the very bond of love, Whose fresh complexion and whose heart together Affliction alters.

Pardon's the word to all.

For naught so vile that on the earth doth live But to the earth some special good doth give.

Hot and hasty, like a Scotch jig.

O, my offence is rank, it smells to heaven

I have touched the highest point of all my greatness.

We are oft to blame in this, - 'tis too much proved, - that with devotion's visage, and pios action we do sugar o'er the devil himself.