Whence is thy learning? Hath thy toil O'er books consumed the midnight oil?

Cowards are cruel, but the brave love mercy and delight to save.

Variety's the source of joy below, From whence still fresh-revolving pleasures flow, In books and love the mind one end pursues, And only change the expiring flames renews.

To cheat a man isnothing; but the womanmust have fine parts indeed who cheats a woman!

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.

Envy is a kind of praise.

The fly that sips treacle is lost in the sweets.