That friend a great man's ruin strongly checks, who rails into his belief all his defects.
Poor maids have more lovers than husbands.
Let guilty men remember, their black deeds Do lean on crutches made of slender reeds.
Vain the ambition of kings Who seek by trophies and dead things To leave a living name behind, And weave but nets to catch the wind.
Physicians are like kings- They brook no contradiction.
Lust carries her sharp whip At her own girdle.
I myself have loved a lady and pursued her with a great deal of under-age protestation, whom some three or four gallants that have enjoyed would with all their hearts have been glad to have been rid of. 'Tis just like a summer birdcage in a garden: the birds that are without despair to get in, and the birds that are within despair and are in a consumption for fear they shall never get out.
See, the curse of children! In life they keep us frequently in tears, And in the cold grave leave us in pale fears.
Eagles commonly fly alone. They are crows, daws, and starlings that flock together.
The misery of us, that are born great, We are forced to woo because none dare woo us.
DUCHESS: Diamonds are of most value, They say, that have past through most jewellers' hands. FERDINAND: Whores, by that rule, are precious.
That realm is never long in quiet, where the ruler is a soldier.
I have long served virtue, And never ta'en wages of her.
I do love these ancient ruins. We never tread upon them but we set Our foot upon some reverend history.
Though lust do masque in ne'er so strange disguise she's oft found witty, but is never wise.
Were there no heaven nor hell I should be honest.
How many ills spring from adultery? First the supreme law that is violated, Nobility oft stain'd with bastardy, Inheritance of land falsely possessed, The husband scorn'd, wife sham'd, and babes unbless'd.
I am Duchess of Malfi still.
All the damnable degrees Of drinking have you staggered through.
A powerful portfolio of physiological and behavioural evidence now exists to support the case that fish feel pain and that this feeling matters. In the face of such evidence, any argument to the contrary based on the claim that fish 'do not have the right sort of brain' can no longer be called scientific. It is just obstinate.
In all our quest of greatness, like wanton boys, whose pastime is their care, we follow after bubbles, blown in the air.
Are you grown an atheist? Will you turn your body, Which is the goodly palace of the soul, To the soul's slaughter-house? Oh, the curse' d devil, Which doth present us with all other sins Thrice-candied o'er.
Imyself haveheard averygood jest, and havescornedto seem to have so sillya wit as to understand it.
When a man's mind rides faster than his horse can gallop they quickly both tire.
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