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.
Who friendship with a knave hath made, Is judged a partner in the trade.
Envy's a sharper spur than pay: No author ever spar'd a brother; Wits are gamecocks to one another.
Follow love and it will flee, flee love and it will follow thee.
Fair is the kingcup that in meadow blows, Fair is the daisy that beside her grows.
I know you lawyers can with ease, Twist words and meanings as you please; That language, by your skill made pliant, Will bend to favour every client; That 'tis the fee directs the sense, To make out either side's pretense.