Quick-circulating slanders mirth afford; and reputation bleeds in every word.

The surest way to health, say what they will, Is never to suppose we shall be ill; Most of the ills which we poor mortals know From doctors and imagination flow.

The laws I love; the lawyers I suspect.

He hurts me most who lavishly commends.

Keep up appearances; there lies the test. The world will give thee credit for the rest.

Who to patch up his fame, or fill his purse, Still pilfers wretched plans, and makes them worse; Like gypsies, lest the stolen brat be known, Defacing first, then claiming for his own.

Whom drink made wits, though nature made them fools.