Wit has as few true judges as painting.

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

Marrying to increase love is like gaming to become rich; alas, you only lose what little stock you had before.

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

Charity and good-nature give a sanction to the most common actions; and pride and ill-nature make our best virtues despicable.

Grief is so far from retrieving a loss that it makes it greater; but the way to lessen it is by a comparison with others' losses.

Poets, like friends to whom you are in debt, you hate.