The laws I love; the lawyers I suspect.
No tribute is laid on castles in the air.
Ourselves are to ourselves the cause of ill.
He mouths a sentence as curs mouth a bone.
If you mean to profit, learn to praise.
Who to patch up his fame, or fill his purse, Still pilfers wretched plans, and makes them worse; Like gypsies, lest the stolen brat be known, Defacing first, then claiming for his own.