I Am Always Of The Opinion With

I Nauseate Walking; 'tis A Country Diversion, I Loathe The Country.

A Woman Only Obliges A Man To Secrecy, That She May Have The Pleasure Of Telling Herself.

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.

Nothing But You Can Lay Hold Of My Mind, And That Can Lay Hold Of Nothing But You.

Thus Grief Still Treads Upon The Heels Of Pleasure; Married In Haste, We May Repent At Leisure.