A Rich Rogue Nowadays Is Fit Company

Fill It Up. I Take As Large Draughts Of Liquor As I Did Of Love. I Hate A Flincher In Either.

I Hate The Man Who Builds His Name On Ruins Of Another's Fame. Thus Prudes, By Characters O'erthrown, Imagine That They Raise Their Own. Thus Scribblers, Covetous Of Praise, Think Slander Can Transplant The Bays.

What Then In Love Can Woman Do? If We Grow Fond They Shun Us. And When We Fly Them, They Pursue: But Leave Us When They've Won Us.

How Happy Could I Be With Either, Were T'other Dear Charmer Away!

Who Talks Much, Must Talk In Vain.