It Is A Natural Virtue Incident To

Mr. Doctor, That Loose Gown Becomes You So Well I Wonder Your Notions Should Be So Narrow.

If Our Web Be Framed With Rotten Handles, When Our Loom Is Well Nigh Done, Our Work Is New To Begin. God Send The Weaver True Prentices Again, And Let Them Be Denizens.

Where Might Is Mixed With Wit, There Is Too Good An Accord In A Government.

I Have No Desire To Make Windows Into Men's Souls.

I Know I Have The Body Of A Weak And Feeble Woman, But I Have The Heart And Stomach Of A King, And Of A King Of England Too.