Thomas Otway Quotes
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If we must part for ever, Give me but one kind word to think upon, And please myself withal, whilst my heart's breaking!
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And die with decency.
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You wags that judge by rote, and damn by rule.
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Could my griefs speak, the tale would have no end.
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Clocks will go as they are set, but man, irregular man, is never constant, never certain.
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And for an apple damn'd mankind.
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Home I would go But that my doors are hateful to my eyes, Fill'd and damm'd up with gaping creditors, Watchful as fowlers when their game will spring.
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Let us embrace, and from this very moment vow an eternal misery together.
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The poor sleep little.
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I may boldly speak In right, though proud oppression will not hear me!
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There is such sweet pain in parting that I could hang forever on thine arms, and look away my life into thine eyes.
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Greatness, thou gaudy torment of out souls, The wise man's fetter, and the rage of fools.
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Shining through tears, like April suns in showers, that labor to overcome the cloud that loads em.
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Oh woman! lovely woman! nature made thee To temper man; we had been brutes without you; Angels are painted fair to look like you; There's in you all that we believe of heaven, Amazing brightness, purity, and truth, Eternal joy, and everlasting love.
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The worst thing an old man can be is a lover.
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No flattery, boy! an honest man cannot live by it; it is a little, sneaking art, which knaves use to cajole and soften fools withal.
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What mighty ills have not been done by woman! Who was't betray'd the Capitol? A woman; Who lost Mark Antony the world? A woman; Who was the cause of a long ten years' war, And laid at last old Troy is ashes? Woman; Destructive, damnable, deceitful woman!
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False as the adulterate promises of favorites in power when poor men court them.
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O woman! lovely woman! Nature made thee To temper man: we had been brutes without you.
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Who's a prince or beggar in the grave?
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Revenge, the attribute of gods! They stamped it with their great image on our natures.
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Who can describe Women's hypocrisies! their subtle wiles, Betraying smiles, feign'd tears, inconstancies! Their painted outsides, and corrupted minds, The sum of all their follies, and their falsehoods.
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Ambition is a lust that is never quenched, but grows more inflamed and madder by enjoyment.
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Honesty needs no disguise nor ornament; be plain.
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Justice is lame as well as blind, amongst us.
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Base natures ever judge a thing above them, and hate a power they are too much obliged to.
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You talk to me in parables. You may have known that I'm no wordy man, Fine speeches are the instruments of knaves Or fools that use them, when they want good sense; But honesty Needs no disguise nor ornament: be plain.
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Love reigns a very tyrant in my heart.
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Dame Fortune, like most others of the female sex, is generally most indulgent to the nimble-mettled blockheads.
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Honest men are the soft easy cushions on which knaves repose and fatten.
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