Do you think your mother and I should have lived comfortably so long together, if ever we had been married? Baggage!
O Polly, you might have toyed and kissed, by keeping men off, you keep them on.
Learning by study must be won; 'Twas ne'er entail'd from son to son.
Fools may our scorn, not envy, raise. For envy is a kind of praise.
My lodging is on the cold ground, And hard, very hard, is my fare, But that which grieves me more Is the coldness of my dear.
To shoot at crows is powder flung away.