To smile at the jest which plants a thorn in another's breast is to become a principal in the mischief.

An apothecary should never be out of spirits.

Fame, the sovereign deity of proud ambition.

Many a wretch has rid on a hurdle who has done less mischief than utterers of forged tales, coiners of scandal, and clippers of reputation.

Nay, but Jack, such eyes! such eyes! so innocently wild! so bashfully irresolute! Not a glance but speaks and kindles some thought of love! Then, Jack, her cheeks! her cheeks, Jack! so deeply blushing at the insinuations of her tell-tale eyes! Then, Jack, her lips! O, Jack, lips smiling at their own discretion! and, if not smiling, more sweetly pouting - more lovely in sullenness! Then, Jack, her neck! O, Jack, Jack!

I had rather follow you to your grave than see you owe your life to any but a regular-bred physician.

The quarrel is a very pretty quarrel as it stands - we should only spoil it by trying to explain it.