Though I Never Scruple A Lie To

Madam, A Circulating Library In A Town Is As An Evergreen Tree Of Diabolical Knowledge; It Blossoms Through The Year. And Depend On It That They Who Are So Fond Of Handling The Leaves, Will Long For The Fruit At Last.

There 's Nothing Like Being Used To A Thing.

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!

Satires And Lampoons On Particular People Circulate More By Giving Copies In Confidence To The Friends Of The Parties, Than By Printing Them.

Conscience Has No More To Do With Gallantry Than It Has With Politics.