They are at the end of the gallery; retired to their tea and scandal, according to their ancient custom.

A hungry wolf at all the herd will run, In hopes, through many, to make sure of one.

In my conscience I believe the baggage loves me, for she never speaks well of me herself, nor suffers any body else to rail at me.

I know a lady that loves to talk so incessantly, she won't give an echo fair play; she has that everlasting rotation of tongue that an echo must wait till she dies before it can catch her last words!

Every man plays the fool once in his live, but to marry is playing the fool all one's life long.

Beauty is the lover's gift.

Mr Witwould: "Pray, madam, do you pin up your hair with all your letters? I find I must keep copies." Mrs Millamant: "Only with those in verse.... I never pin up my hair with prose."