Keep up appearances; there lies the test. The world will give thee credit for the rest.

The surest way to health, say what they will, Is never to suppose we shall be ill; Most of the ills which we poor mortals know From doctors and imagination flow.

Keep up appearances; there lies the test. The world will give thee credit for the rest.

Those who would make us feel must feel themselves.

Quick-circulating slanders mirth afford; and reputation bleeds in every word.

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.

Ourselves are to ourselves the cause of ill.