Is there no hope? the sick man said, The silent doctor shook his head, And took his leave with signs of sorrow, Despairing of his fee to-morrow.
To cheat a man isnothing; but the womanmust have fine parts indeed who cheats a woman!
Envy is a kind of praise.
Whence is thy learning? Hath thy toil O'er books consumed the midnight oil?
From kings to cobblers 'tis the same; Bad servants wound their masters' fame.
To friendship every burden's light.