All my care is you, and all my pleasure yours.
By God, I'll have more booty in a moment.
A State for one man is no State at all.
We long to have again the vanished past, in spite of all its pain.
Shall we not perish wretchedest of all, If in defiance of the law we cross A monarch's will?—weak women, think of that, Not framed by nature to contend with men. Remember.
Rash indeed is he who reckons on the morrow or haply on days beyond it for tomorrow is not until today is past.