To shoot at crows is powder flung away.

Who talks much, must talk in vain.

Around the steel no tortur'd worm shall twine, No blood of living insect stain my line; Let me, less cruel, cast the feather'd hook, With pliant rod athwart the pebbled brook, Silent along the mazy margin stray, And with the fur-wrought fly delude the prey.

Woman's mind Oft' shifts her passions, like th'inconstant wind; Sudden she rages, like the troubled main, Now sinks the storm, and all is calm again.

Do you think your mother and I should have lived comfortably so long together, if ever we had been married? Baggage!

A Wolf eats sheep but now and then; Ten thousands are devour'd by men. An open foe may prove a curse, but a pretend friend is worse.

Of all the fools that pride can boast, A Coxcomb claims distinction most.