A man is always afraid of a woman that loves him too much

There is no dependence that can be sure but a dependence upon one's self.

In love we are all fools alike.

Who friendship with a knave hath made, Is judged a partner in the trade.

I hate the man who builds his name On ruins of another's fame. Thus prudes, by characters o'erthrown, Imagine that they raise their own. Thus Scribblers, covetous of praise, Think slander can transplant the bays.

Of all the fools that pride can boast, A Coxcomb claims distinction most.

So comes a reck'ning when the banquet's o'er, The dreadful reckn'ning, and men smile no more.