Turn pimp, flatterer, quack, lawyer, parson, be chaplain to an atheist, or stallion to an old woman, anything but a poet; for a poet is worse, more servile, timorous and fawning than any I have named.

If there's delight in love, 'Tis when I see that heart, which others bleed for, bleed for me.

O, she is the antidote to desire.

How hard a thing 'twould be to please you all.

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

A woman only obliges a man to secrecy, that she may have the pleasure of telling herself.

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.