There Is Nothing More Unbecoming A Man

Women Are Like Tricks By Sleight Of Hand, Which, To Admire, We Should Not Understand

Honor Is A Public Enemy, And Conscience A Domestic, And He That Would Secure His Pleasure, Must Pay A Tribute To One And Go Halves With T'other.

I Came Up Stairs Into The World, For I Was Born In A Cellar.

I Know A Lady That Loves To Talk So Incessantly, She Won't Give An Echo Fair Play; She Has That Everlasting Rotation Of Tongue That An Echo Must Wait Till She Dies Before It Can Catch Her Last Words!

Defer Not Till To-morrow To Be Wise, To-morrow's Sun To Thee May Never Rise; Or Should To-morrow Chance To Cheer Thy Sight With Her Enlivening And Unlook'd For Light, How Grateful Will Appear Her Dawning Rays! As Favours Unexpected Doubly Please.