Many a truth is told in jest.

All human race would be wits. And millions miss, for one that hits.

A fig for partridges and quails, ye dainties I know nothing of ye; But on the highest mount in Wales Would choose in peace to drink my coffee.

There seems to be no part of knowledge in fewer hands than that of discerning when to have done.

That incessant envy wherewith the common rate of mankind pursues all superior natures to their own.

Where Young must torture his invention To flatter knaves, or lose his pension.

It is in disputes as in armies, where the weaker side sets up false lights, and makes a great noise, to make the enemy believe them more numerous and strong than they really are.