Nor Hell A Fury, Like A Woman

A Little Scorn Is Alluring.

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

I Always Take Blushing Either For A Sign Of Guilt, Or Of Ill Breeding.

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

Who Pleases One Against His Will.