'Tis not enough your counsel still be true; Blunt truths more mischief than nice falsehoods do.

Fickle Fortune reigns, and, undiscerning, scatters crowns and chains.

Simplicity is the mean between ostentation and rusticity.

Never find fault with the absent.

Virtue she finds too painful an endeavour, content to dwell in decencies for ever.

These riches are possess'd, but not enjoy'd!

Authors are partial to their wit, 'tis true, But are not critics to their judgment, too?