Come, come, leave business to idlers, and wisdom to fools: they have need of 'em: wit be my faculty, and pleasure my occupation, and let father Time shake his glass.

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

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

Thus grief still treads upon the heels of pleasure; Married in haste, we may repent at leisure.

One minute gives invention to destroy; What to rebuild, will a whole age employ.

Music alone with sudden charms can bind The wand'ring sense, and calm the troubled mind.

Though marriage makes man and wife one flesh, it leaves 'em still two fools.