Satire is a sort of glass wherein beholders do generally discover everybody’s face but their own; which is the chief reason for that kind reception it meets with in the world, and that so very few are offended with it.

A lie is an excuse guarded

I row after health like a waterman.

This wine should be eaten, it is too good to be drunk.

If the world had but a dozen Arbuthnots in it, I would burn my Travels.

Pride, ill nature, and want of sense, are the three great sources of ill manners.

She watches him as a cat would watch a mouse.