Life Is Not Long Enough For A

It Is Easier For An Artful Man, Who Is Not In Love, To Persuade His Mistress He Has A Passion For Her, And To Succeed In His Pursuits, Than For One Who Loves With The Greatest Violence. True Love Hath Ten Thousand Griefs, Impatiencies And Resentments, That Render A Man Unamiable In The Eyes Of The Person Whose Affection He Sollicits.

Every Wife Ought To Answer For Her Man. If The Husband Be Engaged In A Seditious Club, Or Drinks Mysterious Healths, Or Be Frugal Of His Candles On A Rejoicing Night, Let Her Look To Him And Keep Him Out Of Harm's Way; Or The World Will Be Apt To Say, She Has A Mind To Be A Widow Before Her Time. She Ought, In Such Cases, To Exert The Authority Of The Curtain Lecture; And If She Finds Him Of A Rebellious Disposition, To Tame Him, As They Do Birds Of Prey, By Dinning Him In The Ears All Night Long.

Soon As The Evening Shades Prevail, The Moon Takes Up The Wondrous Tale, And Nightly To The Listening Earth Repeats The Story Of Her Birth.

That Fine Part Of Our Construction, The Eye, Seems As Much The Receptacle And Seat Of Our Passions As The Mind Itself; And At Least It Is The Outward Portal To Introduce Them To The House Within, Or Rather The Common Thoroughfare To Let Our Affections Pass In And Out.

A Wealthy Doctor Who Can Help A Poor Man, And Will Not Without A Fee, Has Less Sense Of Humanity Than A Poor Ruffian, Who Kills A Rich Man To Supply His Necessities.