Nor Hell a Fury, like a Woman scorn'd.

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."

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!

Thus in this sad, but oh, too pleasing state! my soul can fix upon nothing but thee; thee it contemplates, admires, adores, nay depends on, trusts on you alone.

I confess freely to you, I could never look long upon a monkey, without very mortifying reflections.

To find a young fellow that is neither a wit in his own eye, nor a fool in the eye of the world, is a very hard task.

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