Blessings ever wait on virtuous deeds, and though a late, a sure reward succeeds.
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.
Say what you will, 'tis better to be left than never to have been loved.
Love's but a frailty of the mind, When 'tis not with ambition joined.
O, she is the antidote to desire.
O fie, miss, you must not kiss and tell.