If all the year were playing holidays; To sport would be as tedious as to work.
Now let it work. Mischief, thou art afoot. Take thou what course thou wilt.
The labor we delight in physics [cures] pain.
He that wants money, means, and content is without three good friends.
Why, universal plodding poisons up The nimble spirits in the arteries, As motion and long-during action tires The sinewy vigor of the traveller.
I cannot draw a cart, nor eat dried oats; If it be man's work, I'll do't.
I am indeed, sir, a surgeon to old shoes; when they are in great danger I recover them.
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