If with me you'd fondly stray Over the hills and far away.

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.

She who has never lov'd, has never liv'd.

I never, with important air, In conversation overbear. . . . . My tongue within my lips I rein; For who talks much must talk in vain.

One wife is too much for most husbands to bear, But two at a time there's no mortal can bear.

The fly that sips treacle is lost in the sweets.

Fill it up. I take as large draughts of liquor as I did of love. I hate a flincher in either.