Good Things Should Be Praised.

I Am But Mad North-north-west. When The Wind Is Southerly, I Know A Hawk From A Handsaw.

Tis The Mind That Makes The Body Rich.

You Are A Lover. Borrow Cupid's Wings And Soar With Them Above A Common Bound.

Good Lord, For Alliance! Thus Goes Every One To The World But I, And I Am Sunburnt; I May Sit In A Corner And Cry Heigh-ho For A Husband!

Could Beauty, My Lord, Have Better Commerce Than With Honesty?