Keep thy foot out of brothels, thy hand out of plackets, thy pen from lender's books, and defy the foul fiend.
I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon, Than such a Roman.
There is an old poor man,. . . . Oppress'd with two weak evils, age and hunger.
Gold--what can it not do, and undo?
Time's the king of men; he's both their parent, and he is their grave, and gives them what he will, not what they crave.
Though this be madness, yet there is method in't.