Follow love and it will flee, flee love and it will follow thee.

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

Here Shock, the pride of all his kind, is laid, Who fawned like man, but ne'er like man betrayed.

Envy's a sharper spur than pay.

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!

If the heart of a man is depressed with cares, The mist is dispell'd when a woman appears; Like the notes of a fiddle, she sweetly, sweetly Raises the spirits, and charms our ears.

To shoot at crows is powder flung away.