If Love Be Blind, It Best Agrees

I Am Such A Tender Ass, If My Hair Do But Tickle Me, I Must Scratch.

To Be In Love- Where Scorn Is Bought With Groans, Coy Looks With Heart-sore Sighs, One Fading Moment's Mirth With Twenty Watchful, Weary, Tedious Nights; If Haply Won, Perhaps A Hapless Gain; If Lost, Why Then A Grievous Labour Won; However, But A Folly Bought With Wit, Or Else A Wit By Folly Vanquished.

The Tongues Of Mocking Wenches Are As Keen As Is The Razor's Edge Invisible.

The Object Of Art Is To Give Life A Shape.

Discharge My Followers; Let Them Hence Away, From Richard's Night To Bolingbrooke's Fair Day.