Poets, like whores, are only hated by each other.

Women of quality are so civil, you can hardly distinguish love from good breeding.

Necessity, mother of invention.

A beauty masked, like the sun in eclipse, gathers together more gazers than if it shined out.

Hunger, revenge, to sleep are petty foes, But only death the jealous eyes can close.

I have heard people eat most heartily of another man's meat, that is, what they do not pay for.

A mistress should be like a little country retreat near the town, not to dwell in constantly, but only for a night and away.