What pity 'tis, one that can speak so well, Should in his actions be so ill!

My dancing days are past.

But married once, a man is stak'd or pown'd, and cannot graze beyond his own hedge.

For any man to match above his rank is but to sell his liberty.

We have not an hour of life in which our pleasures relish not some pain, our sours, some sweetness.

I had not to this time subsisted, but that I was supported by your frequent courtesies and favours.

Petitions, not sweetened with gold, are but unsavory and oft refused; or, if received, are pocketed, not read.