The worst thing an old man can be is a lover.
Honest men are the soft easy cushions on which knaves repose and fatten.
False as the adulterate promises of favorites in power when poor men court them.
Ambition is a lust that is never quenched, but grows more inflamed and madder by enjoyment.
Clocks will go as they are set, but man, irregular man, is never constant, never certain.
Love reigns a very tyrant in my heart.