Plots, true or false, are necessary things, To raise up commonwealths and ruin kings.

Better to hunt in fields, for health unbought, Than fee the doctor for a nauseous draught, The wise, for cure, on exercise depend; God never made his work for man to mend.

If one must be rejected, one succeed, make him my lord within whose faithful breast is fixed my image, and who loves me best.

None are so busy as the fool and the knave.

Interest makes all seem reason that leads to it.

Only man clogs his happiness with care, destroying what is with thoughts of what may be.

Old as I am, for ladies' love unfit, The power of beauty I remember yet.