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.

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

Fair is the marigold, for pottage meet.

Envy's a sharper spur than pay.

Twas when the seas were roaring With hollow blasts of wind, A damsel lay deploring, All on a rock reclined.

A man is always afraid of a woman that loves him too much

I hate the man who builds his name On ruins of another's fame. Thus prudes, by characters o'erthrown, Imagine that they raise their own. Thus Scribblers, covetous of praise, Think slander can transplant the bays.