When you are lying awake with a dismal headache, and repose is tabooed by anxiety, I conceive you may use any language you choose to indulge in without impropriety.

No good play is a success; fine writing and high morals are useless on the stage. I have been scribbling twaddle for thirty-five years to suit the public taste, and I should know.

I am a courtier grave and serious Who is about to kiss your hand: Try to combine a pose imperious With a demeanour nobly bland.

I accept refreshment at any hands, however lowly.

Ah, pray no mistake, We are not shy; We're very wide awake The Moon and I.

Saturday afternoon, although occurring at regular and well-foreseen intervals, always takes this railway by surprise.

Let the punishment fit the crime.