A Little Scorn Is Alluring.

They Are At The End Of The Gallery; Retired To Their Tea And Scandal, According To Their Ancient Custom.

Come, Come, Leave Business To Idlers, And Wisdom To Fools: They Have Need Of 'em: Wit Be My Faculty, And Pleasure My Occupation, And Let Father Time Shake His Glass.

Love's But The Frailty Of The Mind, When 'tis Not With Ambition Joined; A Sickly Flame, Which If Not Fed Expires; And Feeding, Wastes In Self-consuming Fires.

O Fie, Miss, You Must Not Kiss And Tell.

Every Man Plays The Fool Once In His Live, But To Marry Is Playing The Fool All One's Life Long.