We gentlemen, whose chariot's roll only upon the four aces, are apt to have a wheel out of order.

Custom is the law of fools.

No man is worth having is true to his wife, or can be true to his wife, or ever was, or ever will be so.

True virtue, wheresoever it moves, still carries an intrinsic worth about it.

Repentance for past crimes is just and easy; but sin-no-more's a task too hard for mortals

Love's like virtue, its own reward.

We gentlemen, whose chariot's roll only upon the four aces, are apt to have a wheel out of order.