Whence is thy learning? Hath thy toil O'er books consumed the midnight oil?
A rich rogue nowadays is fit company for any gentleman; and the world, my dear, hath not such a contempt for roguery as you imagine.
She who has never lov'd, has never liv'd.
The fly that sips treacle is lost in the sweets.
In every age and clime we see Two of a trade can never agree.
Can love be controll'd by advice?