Come, my Celia, let us prove, While we can, the sports of love, Time will not be ours for ever, He, at length, our good will sever; Spend not then his gifts in vain: Suns that set may rise again; But if once we lose this light, 'Tis with us perpetual night. Why should we defer our joys? Fame and rumour are but toys.

Fortune, that favors fools.

Folly often goes beyond her bounds, but impudence knows none.

Well, I will scourge those apes, And to these courteous eyes oppose a mirror, As large as is the stage whereon we act; Where they shall see the time's deformity Anatomised in every nerve, and sinew, With constant courage, and contempt of fear.

They, who know no evil, will suspect none.

You learn nothing about someone by the way they win the fight, you learn everything about the way they lose and keep coming back.

Honor's a good brooch to wear in a man's hat at all times.