The villain's censure is extorted praise.

You beat your Pate, and fancy Wit will come: Knock as you please, there's no body at home.

Love finds an altar for forbidden fires.

"With ev'ry pleasing, ev'ry prudent part, Say, what can Chloe want?"-She wants a heart.

The hungry judges soon the sentence sign, and wretches hang that jurymen may dine.

Ambition first sprung from your blest abodes: the glorious fault of angels and of gods.

Know then this truth, enough for man to know virtue alone is happiness below.