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

Who friendship with a knave hath made, Is judged a partner in the trade.

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

In beauty faults conspicuous grow; The smallest speck is seen on snow.

Youth's the season made for joys, Love is then our duty.

When if or chance or hunger's powerful sway Directs the roving trout this fatal way, He greedily sucks in the twining bait, And tugs and nibbles the fallacious meat. Now, happy fisherman; now twitch the line! How thy rod bends! behold, the prize is thine!

Good housewives all the winter's rage despise, Defended by the riding-hood's disguise; Or, underneath the umbrella's oily shade, Safe through the wet on clinking pattens tread, Let Persian dames the unbrella's ribs display, To guard their beauties from the sunny ray; Or sweating slaves support the shady load, When eastern monarchs show their state abroad; Britain in winter only knows its aid, To guard from chilling showers the walking maid.