Come, come, leave business to idlers, and wisdom to fools: they have need of 'em: wit be my faculty, and pleasure my occupation, and let father Time shake his glass.

If happiness in self-content is placed, The wise are wretched, and fools only blessed.

I am a fool, I know it; and yet, Heaven help me, I'm poor enough to be a wit.

Some by experience find those words mis-placed: At leisure married, they repent in haste.

It is the business of a comic poet to paint the vices and follies of human kind.

I always take blushing either for a sign of guilt, or of ill breeding.

Blessings ever wait on virtuous deeds, and though a late, a sure reward succeeds.