A politician is the devil's quilted anvil; He fashions all sins on him, and the blows are never heard.

I myself have loved a lady and pursued her with a great deal of under-age protestation, whom some three or four gallants that have enjoyed would with all their hearts have been glad to have been rid of. 'Tis just like a summer birdcage in a garden: the birds that are without despair to get in, and the birds that are within despair and are in a consumption for fear they shall never get out.

Lust carries her sharp whip At her own girdle.

How tedious is a guilty conscience!

Are you grown an atheist? Will you turn your body, Which is the goodly palace of the soul, To the soul's slaughter-house? Oh, the curse' d devil, Which doth present us with all other sins Thrice-candied o'er.

Gold that buys health can never be ill spent, Nor hours laid out in harmless merriment.

Glories, like glow-worms, afar off shine bright, But looked to near, have neither heat nor light.