A little scorn is alluring.

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

Men are apt to offend ('tis true) where they find most goodness to forgive.

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

Women like flames have a destroying power; never to be quenched till they themselves devour.

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.

Love's but a frailty of the mind, When 'tis not with ambition joined.