The light of Heaven restore; Give me to see, and Ajax asks no more.

Cursed be the verse, how well so e'er it flow, That tends to make one worthy man my foe.

A man of business may talk of philosophy; a man who has none may practice it.

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

What dire offence from am'rous causes springs, What mighty contests rise from trivial things.

Charm strikes the sight, but merit wins the soul.

I am satisfied to trifle away my time, rather than let it stick by me.