Tale-bearers Are As Bad As The Tale-makers.

Nay, But Jack, Such Eyes! Such Eyes! So Innocently Wild! So Bashfully Irresolute! Not A Glance But Speaks And Kindles Some Thought Of Love! Then, Jack, Her Cheeks! Her Cheeks, Jack! So Deeply Blushing At The Insinuations Of Her Tell-tale Eyes! Then, Jack, Her Lips! O, Jack, Lips Smiling At Their Own Discretion! And, If Not Smiling, More Sweetly Pouting - More Lovely In Sullenness! Then, Jack, Her Neck! O, Jack, Jack!

An Apothecary Should Never Be Out Of Spirits.

The Heart That Is Conscious Of Its Own Integrity Is Ever Slow To Credit Another´s Treachery.

Where They Do Agree On The Stage, Their Unanimity Is Wonderful.

A Readiness To Resent Injuries Is A Virtue Only In Those Who Are Slow To Injure.