Thus grief still treads upon the heels of pleasure; Married in haste, we may repent at leisure.

I hope you do not think me prone to any iteration of nuptials.

A wit should no more be sincere, than a woman constant; one argues a decay of parts, as to other of beauty.

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.

A hungry wolf at all the herd will run, In hopes, through many, to make sure of one.

Say what you will, 'tis better to be left than never to have been loved.

Delay not till tomorrow to be wise; tomorrow's sun to thee may neve rise.