No louder shrieks to pitying heaven are cast, When husbands or lap-dogs breathe their last.

Go, wiser thou! and in thy scale of sense weigh thy opinion against Providence.

And write about it, Goddess, and about it!

Wit is the lowest form of humor.

Tis but a part we see, and not a whole.

Oft in dreams invention we bestow to change a flounce or add a furbelow.

For thee I dim these eye and stuff this head With all such reading as was never read.