Talk what you will of taste, my friend, you'll find two of a face as soon as of a mind.
Who are next to knaves? Those that converse with them.
Hope travels through, nor quits us when we die.
You beat your Pate, and fancy Wit will come: Knock as you please, there's no body at home.
Those oft are stratagems which errors seem Nor is it Homer nods, but we that dream.
Bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne.