You have but to hold forth in cap and gown, and any gibberish becomes learning, all nonsense passes for sense.

You are a fool in four letters, my son.

Malicious tongues spread their poison abroad and nothing here below is proof against them.

Frenchmen have an unlimited capacity for gallantry and indulge it on every occasion.

It is a strange enterprise to make respectable people laugh.

Then worms shall try That long preserved virginity, And your quaint honor turn to dust, And into ashes all my lust. The grave's a fine and private place But none, I think, do there embrace.

We die only once, and for such a long time.