Envy's a sharper spur than pay: No author ever spar'd a brother; Wits are gamecocks to one another.
When we risk no contradiction, It prompts the tongue to deal in fiction.
I never, with important air, In conversation overbear. . . . . My tongue within my lips I rein; For who talks much must talk in vain.
O Polly, you might have toyed and kissed, by keeping men off, you keep them on.
'T is woman that seduces all mankind; By her we first were taught the wheedling arts.
And when a lady's in the case, You know, all other things give place.