She once used me with that insolence, that in revenge I took her to pieces; sifted her, and separated her failings; I studied 'em, and got 'em by rote. The catalogue was so large, that I was not without hopes, one day or other to hate her heartily.

I confess freely to you, I could never look long upon a monkey, without very mortifying reflections.

Hannibal was a very pretty fellow in those days.

Beauty is the lover's gift.

There are come Critics so with Spleen diseased, They scarcely come inclining to be pleased: And sure he must have more than mortal Skill, Who please one against his Will.

She likes herself, yet others hates, For that which in herself she prizes; And while she laughs at them, forgets She is the thing that she despises.

No, I'm no enemy to learning; it hurts not me.