Beasts Kill For Hunger, Men For Pay.

The Fly That Sips Treacle Is Lost In The Sweets.

A Rich Rogue Nowadays Is Fit Company For Any Gentleman; And The World, My Dear, Hath Not Such A Contempt For Roguery As You Imagine.

Sure Men Were Born To Lie, And Women To Believe Them!

Gamesters And Highwaymen Are Generally Very Good To Their Whores, But They Are Very Devils To Their Wives.

Around The Steel No Tortur'd Worm Shall Twine, No Blood Of Living Insect Stain My Line; Let Me, Less Cruel, Cast The Feather'd Hook, With Pliant Rod Athwart The Pebbled Brook, Silent Along The Mazy Margin Stray, And With The Fur-wrought Fly Delude The Prey.