Honor is a public enemy, and conscience a domestic, and he that would secure his pleasure, must pay a tribute to one and go halves with t'other.

I always take blushing either for a sign of guilt, or of ill breeding.

I nauseate walking; 'tis a country diversion, I loathe the country.

Beauty is the lover's gift.

A wit should no more be sincere, than a woman constant; one argues a decay of parts, as to other of beauty.

Nothing but you can lay hold of my mind, and that can lay hold of nothing but you.

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.