Fools through false shame, conceal their open wounds.
The human race afraid of nothing, rushes on through every crime.
The poet must put on the passion he wants to represent.
And Tragedy should blush as much to stoop To the low mimic follies of a farce, As a grave matron would to dance with girls.
Money is a handmaiden, if thou knowest how to use it A mistress, if thou knowest not.
There is a medium in all things. There are certain limits beyond, or within which, that which is right cannot exist.