He invades authors like a monarch; and what would be theft in other poets is only victory in him.

As one that neither seeks, nor shuns his foe.

Go miser go, for money sell your soul. Trade wares for wares and trudge from pole to pole, So others may say when you are dead and gone. See what a vast estate he left his son.

Bets at first were fool-traps, where the wise like spiders lay in ambush for the flies.

Jealousy's a proof of love, But 'tis a weak and unavailing medicine; It puts out the disease and makes it show, But has no power to cure.

Mighty things from small beginnings grow.

Virtue is her own reward.