The gods confound the man who first found out How to distinguish hours! Confound him, too, Who in this place set up a sun-dial, To cut and hack my days so wretchedly Into small portions.
The gods play games with men as balls.
Little do you know what a gloriously uncertain thing law is.
Your piping-hot lie is the best of lies.
You will not be a chip the richer.
How often the highest talent lurks in obscurity.