Tis the common disease of all your musicians that they know no mean, to be entreated, either to begin or end.
Force works on servile natures, not the free.
For whose sake, henceforth, all his vows be such, As what he loves may never like too much.
The world knows only two, that's Rome and I.
Honor's a good brooch to wear in a man's hat at all times.
The poet is the nearest borderer upon the orator.