Sweet is revenge-especially to women.

I love not man the less, but Nature more.

He who is only just is cruel; who Upon the earth would live were all judged justly?

The devil hath not, in all his quiver's choice, An arrow for the heart like a sweet voice.

Nothing so fretful, so despicable as a Scribbler, see what I am, and what a parcel of Scoundrels I have brought about my ears, and what language I have been obliged to treat them with to deal with them in their own way; - all this comes of Authorship.

Yet smelt roast meat, beheld a huge fire shine, And cooks in motion with their clean arms bared.

This is to be along; this, this is solitude!