Some by experience find those words mis-placed: At leisure married, they repent in haste.

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.

A little scorn is alluring.

It is the business of a comic poet to paint the vices and follies of human kind.

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

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.

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.