Faults and defects every work of man must have.

Enlarge my life with multitude of days, In health, in sickness, thus the suppliant prays; Hides from himself his state, and shuns to know, That life protracted is protracted woe. Time hovers o'er, impatient to destroy, And shuts up all the passages of joy.

Prepare for death, if here at night you roam, and sign your will before you sup from home.

Courtesy and good-humour are often found with little real worth.

A man ought to read just as inclination leads him, for what he reads as a task will do him little good.

His death eclipsed the gayety of nations, and impoverished the public stock of harmless pleasure.

Levellers wish to level down as far as themselves; but they cannot bear levelling up to themselves.