Look round, the wrecks of play behold; Estates dismember'd, mortgaged, sold! Their owners now to jails confin'd, Show equal poverty of mind.

Of all mechanics, of all servile handycrafts-men, a gamester is the vilest. But yet, as many of the quality are of the profession, he is admitted amongst the politest company.

Why is the hearse with scutcheons blazon'd round, And with the nodding plume of ostrich crown'd? No; the dead know it not, nor profit gain; It only serves to prove the living vain.

Can you support the expense of a husband, hussy, in gaming, drinking and whoring? Have you money enough to carry on the daily quarrels of man and wife about who shall squander most?

And when a lady's in the case, You know, all other things give place.

Follow love and it will flee, flee love and it will follow thee.

Exercise thy lasting youth defends.