Aphra Behn

'Twas but a dream, yet by my heart I knew, Which still was panting, part of it was true: Oh how I strove the rest to have believed; Ashamed and angry to be undeceived!

Of all that writ, he was the wisest bard, who spoke this mighty truth- He that knew all that ever learning writ, Knew only this-that he knew nothing yet.

Love ceases to be a pleasure when it ceases to be a secret.

Money speaks sense in a language all nations understand.

Variety is the soul of pleasure.

Sure, I rose the wrong way today, I have had such damn'd ill luck every way.