Words are the weak support of cold indifference; love has no language to be heard.

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

Defer not till to-morrow to be wise, To-morrow's Sun to thee may never rise; Or should to-morrow chance to cheer thy sight With her enlivening and unlook'd for light, How grateful will appear her dawning rays! As favours unexpected doubly please.

I hope you do not think me prone to any iteration of nuptials.

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

These articles subscribed, if I continue to endure you a little longer, I may by degrees dwindle into wife.

I am a fool, I know it; and yet, Heaven help me, I'm poor enough to be a wit.