No friend to Love like a long voyage at sea.
Money speaks sense in a language all nations understand.
All I ask, is the privilege for my masculine part the poet in me.... If I must not, because of my sex, have this freedom... I lay down my quill and you shall hear no more of me.
Come away; poverty's catching.
Jealousy, the old worm that bites.
Oh, what a dear ravishing thing is the beginning of an Amour!